Lokiday
by Artemis Day
Summary: "I'm sorry, Dr. Foster, it just doesn't make any sense. People don't fall in love after only knowing each other for one day." "With all due respect, Agent Romanov, it's been a VERY long day." Lokane.
1. Prologue: Day 65

**A/N: This is the prologue for a story I've had in my head for several weeks. So far, I've only posted this on my tumblr and nowhere else. I've decided to put it here as well, both as incentive to continue and because I just want more people to read it (hopefully provide some feedback and all). Once I've gotten some more chapters downs, I'll most likely start posting on my other sites as well. I can't say for sure when that will be, though.**

**Until then, I hope you enjoy!**

******WARNING: This chapter contains sexual content.**

* * *

_Day 65: Jane Foster_

Jane gets a paper cut.

She pauses turning the page of her magazine, and brings her index finger level with her eyes. A neat trail of red blood slides down the pad. She presses her thumb against it.

The wound stings.

She presses harder.

When she's done, her fingers stick together, and she meets slight resistance separating them. Her thumb is stained with blood. She flexes the joints experimentally, lips puckered. Jane kisses the air and sucks in a breath. Then, she's on her feet and off the tall lab chair.

All around her are half finished equations and equipment strewn around haphazardly. The walls are covered in pictures of various constellations she learned about in elementary school. Those not on the wall stick to her shoes when she steps on them. She hasn't cleaned up her lab in a long time. There's no point in trying anymore.

She reaches the sink and runs cool water over her entire hand. She entertains the idea of rubbing soap into the wound. That would hurt like hell.

Jane doesn't do this, but she does marvel at how far gone she already is for the millionth time in what feels like days.

_Feels like_, because it really should have been days.

It's not, though.

It's just one.

Just one, single, solitary day that's gone by.

Jane snorts and walks back to her seat. She swipes the magazine off the table, throwing it at the opposite wall. She doesn't care, she can't read the damn thing anyway.

SHIELD had been so accommodating when sending her off into thinly veiled hiding. They set her up with colleagues that spoke fluent English, and were fairly close to her in age so they'd have plenty to talk about. Her bed had nicer linens than a five star hotel, and the equipment she'd been given to work with had reduced her to an excited child at Disneyland the first time she saw it.

And yet they still couldn't get her one measly magazine in English. How typical.

The useless ream of paper hits the floor with a satisfying 'flop', and then Jane feels an icy chill run through her. She shivers, more at the temperature drop than low, ominous chuckle that follows.

"That's not polite."

Jane closes her eyes. She doesn't want to look in that mirror on the opposite wall and have to stare at his smarmy face right now. Maybe if she keeps quiet, he'll go away and never come back. Or maybe he'll just talk more.

"Someone's going to have to pick it up."

"No one comes in here but me," she says. "Even if they did, what do I care?"

He tsks. If Jane were two feet taller and a million times stronger, she'd punch his face all the way in and then maybe rip his tongue out for good measure. Let's see him tsk at her then!

"Now, now, Jane Foster, you don't wear apathy well."

She turns around. She was going to eventually, so she might as well get it over with. His bright green eyes stare down at her, a small smile gracing his features. His stance is calm, collected and arrogant. In short, everything Jane expected of him.

Loki was a lot of things, but never a disappointment. Not to her.

Now fully facing him, Jane notices he's in full battle garb. He even has that crazy helmet on. Maybe he's going to fight again, or maybe he's got another trick for her up his sleeve. She'd put neither above him. At least now she has a comeback.

"And _you_ don't wear those antlers well, but it's never stopped you."

His smile vanishes, and Jane smirks, feeling accomplished. Full blown laughter builds, but she doesn't let it out yet. He exhales through his nose, fingers curling into a ball. A long time ago, this used to terrify her. Now, she just wants to laugh harder.

She doesn't feel like alienating him further, though, not this time. He hasn't been around for three 'days' and she doesn't care to be apart from him. That just means she has to face the fact that she actually _wants_ him around. It's a feeling equivalent to getting repeatedly kicked in the gut and winded.

Jane moves away from him, walking briskly to the mini-refrigerator in the corner where her endless supply of bottled water is kept. She pulls out two, opens one and tosses the other over her shoulder. She knows he'll catch it.

"So," she says conversationally, as if this super powered mythical figure and potential world conqueror who once almost destroyed her hometown was just another girlfriend of hers. "What's on the agenda for today? You're all dressed up and ready to go. You must have something big planned."

He doesn't answer.

"Gonna cause some destruction?"

He still doesn't answer.

"You know, burn down all the buildings, slaughter all the innocents, kick all the puppies, anything?"

Nothing.

And now Jane is getting fed up, not to mention confused (definitely not concerned). He's usually way more talkative than this.

She faces him. His eyes are on her, but his mind is elsewhere. He sees something Jane cannot, something invisible and directly in front of her from the looks of it. She really hates when he gets like that, when he closes off completely and never explains himself. He seems to go back and forth between treating Jane like a person, and like she's just a bug he can squash under his foot. Jane's not exactly in the mood for that today.

"Don't tell me you're doing this for me," she says mockingly. If there's one way to get to Loki… "Because I'll be honest with you, you look much better without that helmet on. It's very unflattering."

She blinks her eyes, and he's right in front of her. Jane stares at his armored chest nonchalantly. She wonders when he'll realize the novelty of that trick wore off 'days' ago.

"Do not test me," he growls.

Jane tries to ignore the speeding up of her heartbeat and the building heat in her stomach. Of course he has to use _that voice_ when threatening her. Of course he knows exactly what that husky tone of his does to her every single time. And, of course, this whole miserable situation has turned her into a borderline suicidal masochist who just _has _to keep pushing him.

"Just admit that you're as bored as I am," she says. "You probably thought about going after your brother and the Avengers today, but then you realized there's no point. There's no point in_ anything_ unless we can find a way out of this."

His frown deepens with every word out of her mouth. His eyebrows knit together in a scowl, and his hands ball into fists. Jane could swear his eyes flash red for a second. It excites her about as much as it used to terrify her, and that's a whole other batch of implications she absolutely must avoid dwelling on. She kind of needs what little sanity she has left, thank you very much.

Jane's already seen his Jotunn form twice, which is two more times than Loki would have liked. He still won't explain why he hates his heritage so much. Jane's asked him more times than she can count, and all she gets is silence, or commands to be silent, or screaming and cursing before he disappears to God only knows where for several 'days' at a time. The most she's ever gotten out of him is that the Frost Giants are savage monsters who would rip the flesh from her bones if she gets too close.

She doesn't really get it. He's not all that scary with blue skin and red eyes and no other noticeable changes in appearance. Hell, the blue people in Avatar were creepier looking. If Jane were to fear Loki for anything, it would be the fact that he's a psychotic mass murderer bent on world domination who could tear her head off with his bare hands if he wanted to. That knowledge, like so many other things, had lost it's edge a long time ago. Even when he bares down on her like this, so much bigger than her, eyes speaking of dark intent, Jane can't bring herself to fear him.

She could still fear what emotions he _did_ bring out in her, though.

"You should watch your tongue around me, Mortal," he says with _that voice_ again. Why always _that voice_? "You might not like the consequences if you don't."

The underlying threat is palpable. There are so many different ways he could carry it out, too. Jane won't pretend not to know what they are. They spill incoherently into her mind all at once. She knows who Loki is and what he is and what he can do. He's been nothing if not eager to show her in the previous 'days.'

Jane smiles innocently, he hates that. She runs a hand across his shoulder and down his chest, he likes that.

She pulls herself closer to him, their faces inches apart. She supports her body with one hand on the table. It doesn't slide away from her as it should. Trust Loki to prepare for this. She doesn't see them leaving this room anytime soon.

"Really?" She blows in his ear. He _loves_ that. "Because I think you're all talk."

He seizes her by the arms, pulls her down roughly, and then his lips are on hers, hard and unforgiving. A moan is caught in Jane's throat, she doubts he'll relinquish her mouth long enough for her to let it out. His large hands are everywhere at once. One minute, he's fondling her breast through her shirt, the next he's running them up and down her legs, coming so close to her core that Jane feels she'll come apart at the seams if he doesn't touch her soon.

He _does_ know how to tease.

His tongue forces it's way in. There is no fight for dominance this time, because it's clear who is in control and that he intends to keep it that way. Jane's own hands move across the metal of his armor. That damnable armor he just had to wear today. His casual (in the loosest possible sense) clothes are much easier to remove. He usually steps in with that fancy magic of his pretty quickly. In fact, he should have by now. Is this what he meant by 'consequences?'

Loki snakes an arm around her thin waist, hoisting her up and on the table. As soon as Jane's back makes contact, she is hit by a blast of ice cold from below. It doesn't take a scientist to figure out that somewhere in the millisecond it took him to do all this, he also magicked her clothes off. Jane rolls her eyes and thinks of commenting on this, but then his tongue is in her mouth and coherent thought is but a distant dream.

He gets up on top of her, never once breaking the kiss. She brings her hands up to his warming face and runs her fingers through his thick hair, down the back of his neck, to the collar of his undershirt and dammit all, _why is he still dressed?_

He smirks against her lips.

"Frustrated, my dear?"

Jane wants to slap him so badly right now. Instead, she kisses him harder. He groans in response and raises her up a little so her chest is arched into his. He wrenches his lips away and Jane cries out in protest. She stops complaining when he moves down to her neck, and then her breast. As his tongue swirls around her nipple, Jane struggles to come back to herself.

There is a digital clock on the wall marking the time as ten after four in the afternoon. This gives them plenty of time to go about their routine. To make stiff conversation, to try once again to find out what's happened to them and how to stop it, to descend into yet another pointless argument about nothing, to threaten and be threatened with death and injury and a bunch of other nasty things, to fuck each other senseless in bed and on tables and on the floor and in the shower and against the wall and on top of the bathroom sink and in the mess room and in her direct superior's office (boy, was _that_ ever memorable).

Then the next 'day' comes along and, like everything else around them, the cycle repeats anew.

No changes.

_No changes_.

Jane sometimes wonders what her friends and family would think if they could see her now, naked with her legs spread underneath a psychopathic Norse God.

Her mother wouldn't like it.

Erik wouldn't like it.

Darcy… would congratulate her on getting laid.

Jane can't help giggling. Loki, who has been trailing open mouthed kisses up her neck, bites down hard and makes her gasp. She fists his hair as he licks a hot line back up to her mouth. He re-claims it, pulling her head up slightly with one hand while the other continues to travel.

Her arms are around his waist, and he is still fully dressed.

Bastard.

His lips are relentless, his tongue even more so. She feels deft fingers between her legs, and shamelessly moans into his mouth when they stroke her. She writhes beneath him, knowing that's exactly what he wants.

Loki always gets what he wants from her.

_'Remember Jane,' _she tells herself when he strokes her again, and then finally, with a wave of his hand, is as naked as she is. _'Three benefits to dealing with Loki Laufeyson. Remember them!'_

Benefit number 1: He is, so far, the only other person in the world who knows what's going on.

She feels the muscles in his back, lean, but rock solid. He's shifted positions, so that his erection is pressed firmly against her.

Benefit number 2: As the only other person who knows what's going on, and as a powerful sorcerer with a genius level intellect, he's also the only other person in the world who can help find a way out of this.

He removes his lips from hers again, and Jane immediately attacks his neck, returning the favor with a bite of her own. Loki growls in response, and Jane knows he's going to make her pay for that.

She looks forward to it.

Benefit number 3…

He steadies her hips with his hand, and uses magic to keep the rest of her restrained. Jane finds she can still work her mouth, though, when he thrusts into her and the friction and sheer pleasure of it all makes her scream.

…He's_ spectacular_ in bed.


	2. Day 1

**A/N: Okay, this is extremely important, so PLEASE READ.**

**There may be some discrepancies in time with this story. I have seen The Avengers four times, the last one being just a few days ago on Pay Per View. I unfortunately do not own the DVD yet, still working on that. My point is that I'm not clear on the passage of time between the attack on the Helicarrier and the Chitauri's invasion of Manhattan. For the sake of the story, I'm going to assume that at least one night passed between the two. I know that's probably not accurate, but the story won't work well otherwise.**

**Call it AU if you want. I think of it more as artistic license. Odds are, I'm just over-thinking it and none of you care about this unless you are nit-picky like me. I just wanted to put that out there in case I get questions. Feel free to ask if you have more, though. I will answer to the best of my ability.**

**And, as always, I hope you enjoy the chapter! It starts the process of explaining what the hell was going on in the prologue. I'm sure you are all wondering about that.**

* * *

**LOKIDAY**

_Day 1: Jane Foster_

**_'Come on Elieen, Oh I swear  
At this moment, you mean everything '_**

Jane cracks an eye open. Florescent light hits her and makes her close it again. She shifts to the far side of the bed, which is warm thanks to the facility's excellent heating system. She moves as far away from the clock/radio as she can, too tired to think of just turning it off.

**_'With you in that dress, oh my thoughts I confess  
Verge on dirty  
Ah come on Eileen.'_**

Someone knocks on Jane's door, sharp, no-nonsense raps she'd know anywhere.

"Time to get up, Ms. Foster, there's work to be done."

"I know," Jane says in response, though more to herself and not loud enough for the woman outside to hear.

"Do not make us wait for you."

"Right, right, right "

She says that softly too. It's possible she was heard anyway, because the footsteps she hears next are unexpected. Normally, Dr. Ahlberg stands and waits for her to get ready, so she can escort her to the meeting room for breakfast. It's pretty nice of her, considering she's usually a cold, humorless woman who cares little for anything not work related. One of Jane's new co-worker's joked once that they were a lot alike. Jane laughed it off then, but she wonders now if that's going to be her in another thirty years.

At least she has her friends; Darcy and Erik and the people here.

And, of course, she has Thor.

Or _had_ Thor.

She thinks.

It's really kind of vague.

Because they'd had all of three days together, and Jane spent most of them thinking him an insane, albeit sweet and handsome, homeless person who just so happened to look really good shirtless.

Then he turned out to be the really real God of Thunder, and then there had been that kiss, and then he blasted off back to his realm to face down his psychotic brother. And that was the end of that.

Jane hadn't seen Thor in over a year, never got any confirmation that he was alive or dead. She had no idea what happened or why he hadn't come back yet. The worst case scenario was that Loki had killed him, and that was one notion she absolutely refused to entertain. It was drowned out by images of him safe and alive and smiling down at her and how great it would be when she got him back to earth and all the wrinkly old men who laughed at her theories had to eat their words.

Then, one week ago, she discovered that not only was Thor back on earth, but so was his brother. Apparently, Loki was trying to take over the planet, and Thor was helping to bring him down. That was the extent of Jane's knowledge on the subject. Information was hard to come by since those SHEILD agents who first brought her here had left. On this remote island, the only contact with the outside world comes from the ferry that brings food and supplies once a week. To her understanding, that day is today. Hopefully, they'll bring some breakfast muffins or waffles, because as good as the food here is, she's getting tired of bacon and eggs every morning.

Jane goes to the small bathroom and looks in the mirror. Her hair is a mess, but some liberal brushing, followed by a dab of hairspray, takes care of that. She's always had very manageable hair, thank the Lord. She brushes her teeth fast and doesn't bother with make-up.

Dressing is a simple matter of changing shirts and pulling her pants on. She's found it easier to sleep in just a t-shirt and panties since arriving here. That heating system works just a little too well during the night.

After slipping on a pair of white sneakers, Jane gathers her papers together, and someone else comes knocking. They knock loudly and repeatedly.

"Come on, Jane! Get moving," a younger, much more pleasant voice than Dr. Ahlberg's shouts. "If you don't hurry, you'll miss breakfast. And I swear, Hilda better not have taken all the coffee again, or I'm going to take that precious headband of hers and make her eat it!"

_'I think I'd pay to see that,'_ Jane says to herself. She smiles and stretches, fully awakening her tired muscles.

She's ready now for another day of work. Another day missing those cool New Mexico nights with Darcy talking her ear off and then ignoring her in favor of her beloved ipod. Another day fearing for the future of earth. Another day wondering when she'll see Thor again and pick up where they left off. Another day fearing that day would never come.

For Jane Foster, it's just another day.

* * *

_Day 1: Loki Laufeyson_

Sleep doesn't come easy for Loki, not since he fell from the shattered Rainbow Bridge and landed in _His_ realm. It's not uncommon for him to go days at a time without a hint of shut eye, no worse for the wear the next morning.

This is why, when one of his 'henchman' shakes him awake on the day he takes his first true step towards ruling this realm, his initial response is surprise. He jerks a little in his half asleep state. It's like he's a boy again on one of Thor's ill conceived hunting trips, sleeping under the stars with one eye open, always on guard for bilshtipe attacks. He blinks, taking in an unnaturally blue gaze that speaks of complete obedience.

To him.

Just like the rest of the world soon will.

"Sir," the nameless man says. "We're ready to go."

To his left, the impossible glow of the tesseract fills the room, irresistible in it's power. Loki averts his eyes, nodding in the man's direction. The silent command is understood and met, leaving Loki alone to watch his labors pay off and his true life's purpose come one step closer to being met. He glances at a passing man's watch. It's 3 o'clock in the morning. The sun, he knows, has yet to rise. By the time it does, his army will be ready, and this silly little realm will have no idea what hit it.

Loki steps into the small crowd of his minions. They buzz around him, to and froe, all in preparation for the upcoming assault. He spots Dr. Selvig overseeing the handling of the tesseract. It's placed back in it's case for travel, and the good Doctor takes it and gently loads it in the car. Several of the SHIELD agents he'd managed to obtain flank him, weapons at the ready even though there is not yet a chance for ambush. It's times like this Loki almost misses having Barton around. For a Midgardian, the man was a skilled warrior, and a valuable asset while he'd lasted. He imagines Barton and Thor would have gotten along splendidly once upon a time. A shame he'll have to die now with the rest of those pitiful Avengers.

A half smile forms, morphing into a sinister grin when Loki steps into the back seat of the car with Dr. Selvig. The man's head rests against the window. His eyes are wide and his expression serene, but it's hard to hide the exhaustion brimming. He'd been hard at work these past few days, going without even an hour's sleep, but nothing can be done about it. Opening the portal is first priority.

The engine starts and they're off. The city of Manhattan is on the horizon, they'd be there in just a few short hours. Loki watches it grow closer, waiting for the moment that eyesore of a tower would come into view. It will be the site of the launch of his invasion. Oh, if only he could see the look on Stark's face when he figures it out.

Because Loki knows that he will. Tony Stark isn't called a genius for nothing. Loki knows what a grand battle awaits him, once his false brother and the others regroup. He feels a great pulling in his stomach, anticipation for the moment they all fall before him, be it in death or subjugation. He never thought he'd understand why Thor so passionately craved war and bloodshed. Now he does.

The city looms nearer, as the moon begins to sink and the sun ascends, and it's truly morning now. A brand new day.

For Loki Laufeyson, it's the first day of the rest of his life.

* * *

_Jane Foster_

Jane's favorite part of the day is after lunch. There is a two and a half hour period where she has no responsibilities. No projects to look over or meetings to attend or time to think on how she's only here because she once let a Norse God sleep in her house and not because she actually earned it.

On alternating days, she tells herself that isn't true. Well, it_ is_ true, but it's not the only reason she's here right now. Clearly, they wouldn't have taken her if they didn't think she and her research where worthwhile. Because this is a pretty prestigious place, this observatory. It's been mentioned so many times in so many journals she's read, but it was never somewhere she dreamed she'd find herself welcomed, even if just to consult. However, it's not a place she ever believed would waste money on a fancy private jet either. That's how Jane first knew something was up. As if the men in black suits and sunglasses who looked rather suspiciously like that Agent Coulson guy escorting her weren't tip-off enough.

Now, Jane can only wait. Several days go by, and she hears nothing. She knows Thor is here on Earth, but where?

And when will he contact her?

Will he contact her at all?

Those are questions Jane doesn't feel like answering, and this is why the two and a half hours after lunch are her favorite part of the day.

She spends them in the smallest research lab with Jacobine and Hilda, who fill that annoying, yet endearing void in her life left by Darcy Lewis, and then some. Speaking of which, Jane will have to get back in touch with her when this is all over. She actually really misses her. The lab is empty until three o'clock, when Dr. Ahlberg arrives. She takes her meals alone, and long after everyone else is already full, for reasons no one knows but everyone speculates on.

Jane sits on a high stool with her back against the wall. She's careful not to apply her full weight, so the chair stays firmly under her and doesn't slide out and send her falling on her ass. She made that mistake on her first day, thankfully alone at the time. The pain lingered for two days regardless.

Jacobine and Hilda are to her left, experiments and reports abandoned for a time, in favor of that most unwinding and potentially dangerous past time: girl talk.

"I'd never had a sip of alcohol before that night," says Jacobine, her sweet face wistful as she remembers college days long since passed. She's a curvaceous woman with bob cut blonde hair and a tiny pug nose. She has the warmest smile Jane has ever seen and the personality to match. So long as she's had her morning coffee. "It was probably the craziest thing I ever did, but I lost the bet and I'm not one to go back on my word."

"Hmmm " Hilda hums and rolls her shoulders. She's tall, taller than any other woman Jane has ever seen. Her hair is auburn and forever pulled back into a flawless ponytail. She wears layers and layers of make-up, and only because she really loves to put it on. There's no one to impress around here. The one man close enough to them in age is well known to already be taken, and by another man no less. It's at least not so trashy that she looks like a clown. No, Hilda is a strikingly beautiful woman, with or without the make-up. Or so Jane imagines, she's never actually seen Hilda without it. "And all you had were a couple of beers. Pfft- that is not crazy, my friend."

Jacobine scowls and puts her hands on her hips. It's more adorable than scary.

"Well, we can't all be as crazy as you."

"Yes, and you never will be, much as I hate to break it to you."

Jacobine full on pouts, and Hilda laughs and pulls her into a one-armed hug. Jane watches them out the corner of her eye. She hasn't known either of them for long, but it becomes clear almost immediately that these two were pretty much born together. Jane's never had a friend like that. She had a childhood best friend, of course, one who out of the blue decided she didn't like Jane anymore right before fifth grade and never spoke to her again. Not a year earlier, they'd been proclaiming each other their best friend and long lost twin sister that they'd be friends with forever. How fickle people could be.

Jane never had anyone like that again, Darcy being the closest she ever got. If only they'd had more time together. Jane once again reminds herself to call her as soon as possible. Maybe after she's gotten a hold of Thor again.

Assuming she ever does.

As Jane tumbles headfirst into thoughts of bright blue eyes and boyish smiles that she'd been trying really hard to avoid (this is supposed to be her peace time, dammit), she's completely oblivious to the sound of her name being called.

"Jane? Hey, Jane?" Jacobine comes to stand right in front of her, waving in her face to break her from her thoughts.

"What?" Jane, slightly shaken, squeaks out.

Hilda snorts behind them.

"Are you alright, Jane?" Jacobine says, concern evident. "You looked kind of upset just now."

"Knowing Jane," Hilda says before Jane can even begin to formulate a response. "It's one of two things. Either there was a problem with this morning's re-calibration of the catadioptric telescope, or it's guy trouble."

_'Damn her '_ Jane thinks. Much as she likes Hilda, she really, really hates her sometimes.

"Re-calibration went fine," Jacobine says, shrugging.

Hilda smirks, and this is definitely one of those times and also Jane hates her smug-face _so much_.

"I see " she says, sauntering over. "So tell us about the guy, Jane. I hope he's hot, because a girl like you should go for no less than absolutely gorgeous."

_'Oh believe me, he is.'_

Jane thinks this, because there's no way in hell she's going to say it aloud. So far, no one's told her that she can't tell anyone about Thor and the existence of Asgard. It's kind of obvious, and she thinks maybe that's why. Or maybe SHIELD just doesn't care and is going to let the world know about them anyway. What with everything else going on, Jane wouldn't be surprised. But the last thing she needs right now is too much attention and too many questions. Telling the girls about Thor guarantees both. She's going to have to face it someday, she knows, just not yet. For now, she likes having a little peace.

"He's just some guy I knew a while back," she says, as vague as possible even though she knows that won't be nearly enough for them.

"A hot guy, right?"

Jane rolls her eyes, and apparently that translates to a 'yes' because Jacobine and Hilda break out in giggles.

"I knew you had it in you," Hilda says. "Tell me all about him."

Jane looks at them, sees the expectation and thirst for answers in their eyes, and knows there is no way around this.

"He's uh ..." she stops and lowers her head for a moment. "I didn't really know him for long. I mean, we liked each other a lot, but he had to leave. He had... family troubles."

Hilda exhales through her nose, shaking her head in an over the top manner.

"Family troubles? Yeah, right. If I had a dime for every time I heard that one." She walks away, over to the bookcase where an old science text has been left open. She flips through it carelessly. "Reminds me of my first college boyfriend. Now _he_ was something else. Handsome, intelligent, _great_ in bed... and we spend five months together and then all of a sudden, nothing! He stops taking my calls, he won't answer my e-mails, he avoids me everywhere- it's like I'm a complete stranger to him."

"So what did you do?" asks Jacobine.

Hilda smiles devilishly.

"I slept with his brother, of course."

Jacobine chokes on her own spit. Jane can't say she's shocked by the answer, but she honestly kind of likes how satisfied with herself Hilda clearly is. If there's one thing Jane could call her favorite thing about Hilda, it's that innate self-confidence that so many people sorely lack. Jane has to wonder how other people who've heard this story reacted, because she just knows she and Jacobine aren't the first to hear it.

"Well, I don't think I'll be doing that," Jane mutters, bringing her cup of hot chocolate to her lips.

The hot liquid just barely touches her tongue when the door slams open, and an out of breath, pale faced intern whose name Jane doesn't know peers in.

"What the hell?" Hilda exclaims.

"You-" the intern gasps for air. "You three- you have to come- to the TV room- you have to see this!"

He runs back out without another word. Jane gets to her feet, ignorant of Hilda's stare and Jacobine's questions. She doesn't understand what she's doing, why she has this intense and undeniable feeling that this is important and requires her attention. She runs after the intern, unaware and not caring if her companions are following. She finds him running down the hall, and her gut feeling is reinforced by the fact that he's not alone. There's an entire crowd running alongside him. Jane is glad for that, because she doesn't know the way to the TV room from Dr. Ahlberg's lab. They run for longer than she expected, and Jane's legs are burning by the time she reaches a set of double doors that everyone is filing through.

Jane squeezes her way in, pushing passed a sea of white lab coats until she's found a free space in front of the big screen TV, where some kind of newscast is playing. The voices are in Norwegian, Jane can't make out a single word. She curses her complete inability to grasp another language (it's plagued her since high school when she barely passed Spanish with a C).

Then she sees Thor, and it no longer matters.

It's only for a split second, and he's moving fast and the footage is grainy, but she'd know that face anywhere. He's fighting some kind of robotic monster, Jane can't even begin to understand what it is. The camera pans away from him, much to her anger. The next thing Jane sees is a red and gold blur. Ironman. He's flying after another one of those creatures on a bizarre flying machine. They zoom right passed the Empire State Building.

Manhattan?

Jane's mouth falls open. She reaches blindly for something to sit on and finds the coffee table. It will have to do. For the next ten minutes before the video suddenly cuts out, Jane watches with growing horror. She sees Thor several more times, looking worse and worse and fighting more and more of whatever those things are. Ironman makes a few more appearances, along with a man in a red, white and blue costume with a star spangled shield, a man on top of a building shooting arrows, an enormous green creature who takes up the entire screen. She's also pretty sure she saw someone in black riding one of those flying machines.

Then comes the time when the camera focuses on another. He's riding a flying machine, outfit unlike anything she's ever seen before, and standing calmly in deep contrast to all the others. The newscaster yells frantically, and all around her, people are gasping and talking amongst themselves. Jane hasn't a clue what they're saying, but for once, she doesn't need to.

Because she knows the instant she sees him who this man is.

It's strange, because she's never seen him before. Thor never told her what he looked like.

But somehow, some way, she still knows.

Jane Foster swallows back bile and looks at the face of Loki for the first time in her life.

* * *

_Loki Laufeyson_

The city around him is a mess. His Chitauri army is doing their job well.

He only hopes they don't get too excited and destroy everything beyond repair. From what he understands, New York City extremely important to the rest of the world. One of the most famous cities, making in a perfect spot for his introduction to Midgard as it's new King. That doesn't mean he wants it completely leveled, though. Once he was firmly in control, he would re-build it to his liking. The city as it once was would be a slum compared to what he'd turn it into.

Until then, Loki had an army to control, and several incessant ants to crush beneath his boot.

Unless he's mistaken, one of them was just about to launch an attack on him right now. Loki looks straight ahead, and hears a whizzing sound that tells all. So that's where Barton's been hiding.

The arrow sails, aimed at his head with enough power to kill a lesser man. Loki gives no reaction, no indication that he knows until the last second, when he whips up and catches it. With the thin piece of metal tight in his hand, Loki smiles and looks back, thinking he might catch a glimpse of Barton's face, struck with terror and shame at his failure.

He hears three beeps, and then the arrow explodes in his hand and his ears.

He goes flying.

Loki is next aware of slamming through the tower. His whole body aches, but he can still move. He begins to stand, but the hulking monster that is Bruce Banner is waiting for him, roaring and slamming his fists like the mindless beast he should be.

What happens next, when Loki's whirlwind of anger, confusion, frustration and rage leads him to provoke the Hulk, is good evidence that he is, in fact, very aware even when in this form.

Loki rests in the cater his body created, eyes wide, mouth hanging open, body on fire. He thinks he hears the Hulk walking away, and maybe he says something in a gravely voice addressed to him.

Loki doesn't know. He's too busy trying to breathe to listen carefully.

* * *

_Jane Foster_

When the video first went out, it was very close to chaos. People around Jane gasped and screamed at each other. Someone ran from the room, yelling a single word over and over again. Jane would later learn that the word translated roughly to 'doom' and it was certainly fitting.

The next time the video comes back, a hush falls over the crowd. Jane hasn't moved an inch since the Stand By screen appeared. Even with the noise surrounding her, nothing could phase the swirl of emotions as her mind tries to process what just happened, and what it could mean.

The last time she saw Thor, he looked terrible. He was fighting three monsters at once and she has no idea if he won because the stupid camera just had to pan away. The very last thing she saw was Loki's back as he flew away. Where was he going?

She'd never know.

Or so she thought.

The video feed comes back, and so does the newscaster. He sounds shaken, his words coming out in a tumble, but there's a joy that hadn't been there before. Whatever he's saying, it's very, very good news, because all of a sudden, a great cheer comes over the place. Jane jumps, the raucous noise getting to her worse than their fear had. People yell and applaud and whoop and kiss all around her. She's pretty sure she spots Jacobine and Hilda hugging in the corner. When had they gotten here?

Jane keeps her eyes on the screen. She sees hundreds of those monster lifeless on the ground. Debris and damaged buildings are everywhere, Lord only knows how many bodies are buried underneath. Jane sees the team of heroes standing in the center. Ironman is held up by the man with the arrows and the person in black, now revealed to Jane as a redheaded woman. The green giant backs them up, and the red white and blue man stands right next to-

Thor.

Thor is a little banged up, his armor a mess and covered in dirt. Mjolnir rests in his strong grip, his face is deathly serious. Jane has never seen him like this before, and it kind of shocks her. She knows it really shouldn't. They only knew each other for three days, and he must be a least a thousand years old. That's a lot of time she wasn't around for. He must have more sides to him than she can even begin to fathom.

The observatory celebrates their victors, The Avengers, as they are supposedly called, well into the night. Jane is dragged into it by Hilda, but she'd really rather go back to her room and turn in early. The near destruction of her planet is kind of exhausting to process. A hour or eight of sleep is what she needs right now.

She manages to get away at around 8:30, slipping out while Hilda is distracted and tipsy and dancing on the table to some europop song Jane's never heard of. She makes it to her room in record time, not wanting anyone to stop her along the way. She slams and bolts the door behind her. She takes a deep, soothing breath and walks to the bed, kicking off her shoes and letting them fly messily into the corner. Next, she removes her socks, and finally her pants.

Jane didn't make her bed this morning, so the covers are still rumpled and the pillow has a tiny stain on one side. Jane hates to admit that she drools sometimes in her sleep. Why couldn't she just snore like everyone else? Darcy caught on not long after Thor left and Erik disappeared to work on whatever secret project SHIELD had gotten him into. She decided that Jane must be having some really hot sex dreams about Thor and asked if she should stop waking her up every morning just in case she interrupted something. Jane never let her do the laundry again and they never spoke about it again either.

Jane remembers now that she never confirmed, nor denied, Darcy's suspicion. She groans and brings a hand to her head. It's time for a new train of thought.

She thinks about the future, about what was going to happen now that the danger has passed.

Would Thor come back to her?

Most likely, he'd bring Loki back to Asgard first, so his brother could face justice. What happened after that, Jane hadn't a clue. Obviously, that Bifrost of his was functioning, since he'd managed to get to Earth at all.

Right?

And obviously, he's been thinking about her this past year just as much as she's been thinking about him.

Right?

And obviously he knows how much has been left unsaid and how much they need to talk about before they can move on to any sort of relationship.

Right?

And obviously, if Jane keep over thinking it like this, she'll never get any sleep. At least there's one thing she's certain of.

Jane slides into bed, pulling the covers to her chin and turning to the wall. The bed is comfy as ever, but sleep is a long way off. She finds herself going over various scenarios of how her reunion with Thor might play out. She pictures them meeting back at her lab in Puente Antiguo. She's all alone, going over some charts or something, and then he's there, standing over her with that charmingly disarming smile of his. And then with tears in her eyes, Jane leaps into his powerful arms and they share a kiss that takes her breath away.

Or maybe she'll still be here, and he'll be the one to come and pick her up. He'll fly in, decked out in that sexy battle gear of his, and then after the romantic reunion and kiss, he'll fly her away across the ocean, and she'll see the stars she loves so much up close.

Or maybe she would go to him, meet him in New York, where he'd introduce her to the rest of the Avengers. That would be even better, because she'd get to meet Tony Stark and hopefully strike up a conversation with him about her research. She has no idea if the man has any interest in astrophysics, but surely a genius like him could at least keep up with her, a normal person with many sleepless nights of study under her belt.

Her imagination runs wild, coming up with new ideas and new variations to old ones and making her feel truly happy for the first time in ages. She becomes more and more excited, more ready than ever to see Thor's face again. The only thing deterring her is the fact that most of her fantasies are more akin to silly romantic comedies than real life. The only one that resembles reality at all is far shorter than the rest, and ends not with kisses, but with tears.

Jane steers clear of that one for the rest of the night, as the hours tick by and her eyes grow heavy.

* * *

_Loki Laufeyson_

Asgard is everything Loki remembers it to be. Large, golden, beautiful, and entirely unwelcoming.

It's taken him a long time, and so much pain in the realm of Thanos, to realize that he's never truly felt at home in Asgard. Even in the days of his innocence, when he still believed himself to be a true son of Odin, something always told him that he was different. The nobles and courtiers who looked upon Thor with love and admiration held nothing for Loki but caution and repressed scorn.

Because he was so different from the rest of his family. He was dark were they were light, a sorcerer where his brother was a warrior. He had few friends, Sif and the Warriors Three would never have bothered with him if Thor hadn't made them. Here they were now, anxiously awaiting Thor's return.

Fandral is at the front, beaming like the idiot he is. He takes Thor by the hand, his voice booming as he welcomes Thor back. He takes a moment send a hateful glare Loki's way. The two of them disliked each other from the moment they first met. Fandral must be giddy over Loki's change in alliance. He was right all along that the Silvertongue was a monster.

Volstagg is next. He ignores Loki, but then what else is new, and focuses solely on wrapping Thor in a massive bear hug. Thor laughs with him, slapping the large man on the back before moving to Hogun. The final member of the Warriors Three merely smiles at him. He's always been the most reserved of the bunch. He turns a severe look to Loki, but that's the only greeting he gives.

Sif is the last to approach. She is glowing and admittedly quite beautiful in her joy at seeing Thor again. She must have been worried sick when he left to fight for Midgard. The stupid girl has always let her blind love get in her way. Out of all of them, Loki hates Sif most of all. She perhaps knows Thor just as well as Loki does. She's seen him as a fine warrior, and as a noble Prince, and as a rude drunk, and as a moronic dullard.

And after all that, she's still hopelessly in love with him. Pathetic.

She greets Thor with a slight bow of her head. Thor responds by laughing anew and ruffling her hair. He's been doing that since they were children, back when her hair was still the color of the sun. Loki smirks beneath his mask, remembering how he'd taken care of _that_ so many years ago. Her reaction had been worth the pain of her retaliation.

When the introductions are over, they and several foot soldiers escort the two Princes to the palace. Loki walks up the remnants of the Rainbow Bridge, silenced by his gag, and arms and powers bound by the chains on his wrists. They provide ample room for movement, but are tight and uncomfortable, sucking away his magic little by little. Loki doesn't bother trying more than curling his fingers together.

He maintains a cool, expressionless face, but on the inside, a powerful, violent fury is raging against his shackles.

He hates them.

He hates all of them.

He was supposed to be King.

He was supposed to show them all.

Instead, he's returning to that place of never ending misery, chained up like a common criminal.

Thor leads him into the castle grounds, past the entrance and into the main hall. The foot soldiers disperse, leaving only Sif and the Warriors Three flanking them. One by one, they vanish as well. Sif takes the longest to leave, speaking under her breath how happy she is to have Thor home. Then she's gone and Thor has had no reaction to her words. Loki doubts he even heard them.

To his surprise, Thor leads him not to the AllFather, but down a darkened hallway that few ever go near. The dungeons.

"Father will see you tomorrow," Thor says, heavily. "He is not ready to give out your punishment. You will be brought before him at dawn."

_'He is_ not _my father,'_ Loki thinks.

Thor is silent the whole rest of the way.

He marches Loki passed the guards at the door, pushing it open with one hand. The dingy smell hits Loki like a slap in the face. He fights not to gag. The mask won't let him anyway, and the last thing he's going to do now is show such weakness in front of Thor.

He is brought to the cell on the very end, the biggest one available. The door opens, Loki is gently pushed inside, and it closes behind him. There are no keys to these cages, the AllFather's magic locks them automatically and unbreakably as soon as the doors close on their occupant. Even Loki at full power would have trouble getting them open.

He knows. A long time ago, Thor dared him to try, and he was trapped in there all night, until Frigga came and got him out.

Loki pushes the memory away, it just makes him angrier. Thor hesitates to leave, staring at Loki, trying to meet his false brother's eyes one more time. Maybe he's still hoping like a fool that he can talk some sense into him. Loki stares at the tiny window high above him and doesn't look away until Thor's footsteps fade, and the door closes with a resounding click.

Other than that window, Loki has no light, and when night comes, he's in pitch black. With no magic to light his way, Loki can do nothing. He wants to scream, he wants to curse, he wants to destroy this cage, he wants to kill them all, he wants to do anything besides sit in this filthy cell a broken man.

He can do nothing but dry his eyes, and wish they would stop leaking already.

He closes them to block out the tears, and keeps them closed. He keeps them closed so long, that he begins to feel tired.

Or maybe he was already tired and just didn't realize it.

For the second time in two days, Loki Laufeyson feels the overcoming urge to sleep.

And he gives into it.

* * *

Jane Foster sleeps peacefully.

Loki Laufeyson sleeps fitfully.

In their two separate realms, so very far apart, they share nothing but that ignorant slumber.

And all the worlds around them, near and far, go on turning.

And then, they don't.


	3. Days 2-3

**A/N: Continuing off the last author's note, I've made the date May 4th so to make things easier. It's a significant date for us Avengers fans, so I figured, why not?**

* * *

_Day 2: Jane Foster_

_**'Come on Eileen, oh I swear  
At this moment, you mean everything!'**_

Jane wakes up.

There's no other way to describe it, no fancy words or metaphor. She was asleep, and now she's awake.

_**'With you in that dress, oh my thoughts I confess  
Verge on dirty  
Ah come on Eileen.'**_

She's awake and listening to a song that's oddly familiar. Someone at that radio station must be a big Dexy's fan. Growling softly, Jane pushes herself up on her elbows, forcing herself to look in the direction of her window where the light shines through. Her clock/radio reads 9 am on the dot. She reaches out, going straight to SNOOZE, and Kevin Rowland's incomprehensible vocals cut off.

After the roller coaster ride that was yesterday evening, she could use the extra twenty minutes of sleep. Dr. Ahlberg would just have to wait, assuming she's not too busy breaking up the party (because Hilda would keep it going well into the morning hours) to come for her.

She hears those same sharp knocks on the door and knows that she's wrong.

"Time to get up, Ms. Foster, there's work to be done."

Jane rubs the sleep from her eyes.

"I'll be right there," she answers.

"Do not make us wait for you."

She pushes away the covers, listening for Dr. Ahlberg to continue. All she hears is footsteps walking away. She waits a few more seconds and hears nothing. Just the far off voices of other scientists and interns, laughing at jokes she'll never understand. She creeps on bare feet to the door, pressing her ear against it, and hears no other sign of a human being.

For the second day in a row, Dr. Ahlberg hasn't waited for her.

She backs away slowly, walking into the center of the room with her brow furrowed. She is careful not to go too far, so she doesn't run into anything.

"I guess she's done being my guide," she decides to herself. "Well, I do know my way around pretty well by now."

Jane smiles to herself and turns to the far corner, the one she kicked her shoes off into the night before.

It's empty.

Jane blinks, looking to the opposite corner in case she was mistaken. It is equally bare, and so she spins all the way around trying to find them. When she does, they are in their usual spot next to the bathroom door, neat and upright. Jane stares blankly at them.

"That's weird… I could've sworn I left them right there."

She looks again at the far corner, staring intently. Then someone pounds on the door and Jane nearly jumps out of her socks.

"Come on, Jane, get moving! If you don't hurry, you'll miss breakfast. And I swear, Hilda better not have taken all the coffee again, or I'm going to take that precious headband of hers and make her eat it!"

Jane's eyes have since gone to the door. She stares holes into it as her mind replays yesterday morning, and all that was said and done. She wraps her hands around herself, defensive, as if she expects Jacobine to rip the door open and pounce on her like a snarling animal.

"Jane?" Jacobine knocks again. "Are you even up yet?"

Jane opens her mouth, and for a moment, struggles to speak.

"Yeah, I'm up. I'll be right there."

She snatches her pants off the floor and goes to her dresser for a clean shirt. The blue and white tee she wore yesterday is neatly folded on top, looking freshly laundered and unworn. Jane looks down to find the old red shirt she'd worn to bed the night after last and _definitely_ discarded for the blue and white.

She _definitely_ fell asleep in the blue and white shirt last night.

Jane fists the red shirt, pulling at it and meeting resistance. She lets go, curling her fingers around air, and slowly looking back at the open drawer.

She shakes her head.

"Someone spiked my drink at the party last night," she thinks aloud. "That's got to be it."

She hovers fingers over her shirt, and glances at her precariously placed shoes, and then at the door that Jacobine is still standing behind. As if on cue, she knocks again.

"Jane, hurry up!"

"I'm coming," Jane shouts back. Without another thought, she pulled the shirt over her head and grabbed the blue and white. After sliding her pants and shoes on, she grabs her things and heads for the door.

Maybe once she gets out and sees the aftermath of everyone's little victory party, and has a hungover and irritable Hilda to distract her, she'll start to feel better.

* * *

_Loki Laufeyson_

Loki wakes up slowly, because he isn't aware of his surroundings until he opens his eyes.

He feels cold, hard rock at his back, damp in places that seep into his skin and give him a chill. His whole body feels hard when the memories of yesterday hit him at full force. His stomach fills with impotent rage, his fists clenching, an easier task now then last night. Strangely, the dull aching of his head from that monster's beating has vanished as well. He'd thought it would be days before that pain finally faded.

Not that it matters.

He feels gravel under his feet, and curls his toes in his boots, which then slid fully down to the ground. There is a light shining in his face, a bright one that resembles the sun, and for a moment, he's fooled into believing that it is. It's coming from the wrong direction, though. The window in his cell is on the right, not the left.

Loki opens his eyes.

He sees the curved tunnel of his old hideout. There isn't a trace of the dirty cell walls anywhere. In the corner of his eye are the scientists and soldiers he'd taken control of, loading the tesseract into it's case.

The tesseract.

"Sir?"

Loki whirls around. The nameless man who awoke him yesterday is standing there, completely blank faced before his master's wide eyed, incredulous stare.

"We're ready to go."

Loki loses control of his jaw, which drops comically. Anyone else, Thor, Sif, those idiotic Warriors Three, would have laughed heartily at the sight of the famed Trickster, sent into shock with such seeming ease. This man is none of them, and he's not capable of anything more than breathing without Loki's word. His expression is unchanged in the face of Loki's lost composure. He merely turns and goes about his work when Loki moves past him without a word.

His steps are difficult, because his legs feel like jelly. They'll cave in at any moment if he's not careful. He stands before his slaves and the key to his rule, that which was ruthlessly stolen from him just the day before.

Or so he thought.

His heart is beating so fast, he thinks he can see it beneath the many layers of his armor. He brings a hand to his chest, brushing his surcoat mindlessly. He looks this way and that. There are more people wandering around and the truck with the tesseract in the corner. There isn't a single trace of bars or chains or other prisoners to be seen.

He is not on Asgard.

He is on Midgard.

It is again the morning of his invasion.

Everything that happened yesterday, his confrontation with Tony Stark, his failure to control him thanks to whatever that blasted thing on his chest was, his battle with Thor, his refusal of Thor's pleas, his flight on the glider, the attack by Barton, his yelling at the Hulk, the monster's brutal retaliation, his capture, his chains, his return to Asgard, his night alone in that dank little cell as he awaited punishment from the very man who'd kept him captive for years…

It hadn't happened.

It. Hadn't. Happened.

If it had, then Loki must be dreaming. Perhaps he hadn't really escaped his cell, and was still there this very moment. Perhaps he had gone completely insane overnight and was now hallucinating this second chance at victory.

He looks down at his hands, turning them over. Pale, white skin without the slightest hint of blue. He flexes his fingers, feels the magic there, pooling at his fingertips. Slowly, oh so slowly, he shakes his head.

And even slower is his smile.

"No…" he whispers. "This is no dream, this is _real_. Somehow, this is real. All that I thought happened… it must have been a dream. There can be _no other_ explanation, and that means-"

"Sir?"

The man from before is back, standing tall and ready for orders. Behind him is a small battalion, all armed with various types of weaponry and ready to go. Loki takes them all in, feeling a great joy rise in his stomach, the likes of which he never thought possible.

He's about to take this world for his own.

For real this time.

His wild grin flashes here, there and everywhere. It's unbecoming of a Prince and future King, but he's just so happy and so relieved, that it overpowers him. It can't be contained, the joy he feels. He's one small step above dancing to a tune only he can hear. He takes a few breaths to calm himself before it can get that far. Even if his minions are under his complete control, he doesn't feel like lowering himself to such a degree ever.

He walks to the truck and gets inside, just like he did in his dream. The only difference is that he's driving to his victory. That petty little night terror is nothing compared to the glory he is about to gain. He pushes it from his mind with ease, focusing on the engine as it roars to life.

"Go," he commands, and the driver obeys, driving towards his master's destiny.

In the middle of the drive, Loki can't help but note that Selvig is sitting in a similar position to his dream counterpart, and looks about as worn out too. How very interesting. Loki doesn't dwell on the trivial thought and goes back to planning what he'll do once this city is under his control, and which one he'd go after next.

Were Loki really paying attention, he would've noticed that Selvig was sitting in the exact same position, with the exact same face, and playing with his hands the exact same way as in his dream.

* * *

_Jane Foster_

By the time lunch is over and Jane's two hours of free time begins, she knows that something is very, very, _very _wrong.

She's been through the early morning meetings after breakfast. She's listened to Jacobine moaning at Hilda for taking the last of the coffee and cheekily drinking it in front of her. She's sat in on presentations and meetings and given her opinions when prompted. She's taken her turn at the catadioptric telescope and chatted with the engineers for a good ten minutes.

No one is saying anything about what happened yesterday.

It wouldn't be so bad, except _the entire freaking world almost ended yesterday._

And they'd watched it all on TV.

And they'd partied like animals when it was over.

At the very least, Hilda should be ridiculously hung over, taking up three seats to lay down on and using one of her black scarves as a blindfold. Instead, she's perky as ever and chugging down a carton of milk like it's more booze. Jane looks at Hilda's breakfast of bacon and eggs with buttered toast on the side, and notes wearily that she had the exact same thing yesterday. She doesn't really want to see what Jacobine's eating.

She barely participates in a conversation that is also eerily familiar, and leaves immediately after swallowing her last bite of eggs. She deposits her tray on top of the stack near the trash bin and leaves out the open double doors. Hilda and Jacobine don't notice.

Jane goes to her daily meeting with Dr. Ahlberg's team. They are discussing a project based on her year long observations of one of Jupiter's moons and it's orbit around the planet. Jane listens carefully as she spends the first fifteen minutes going through every file on her laptop, looking for the notes she took at yesterday's meeting. That she finds nothing is extremely distressing, because now she has no way to prove that they had this exact same discussion at the meeting yesterday.

Near the end of the meeting, after listening to the exact same people ask the exact same question and receive the exact same answers as yesterday, something inside Jane snaps.

"How about the news yesterday!" she shouts, bringing all attention onto herself. Dr. Ahlberg levees a cold stare in her direction, but Jane looks away and forces herself to sound casual. "That was something else… you know what I mean?"

She's met with endless stares and almost loses confidence until someone in the very back suddenly laughs.

"Oh, I know _exactly_ what you mean," the man says. "Raising the gas prices a full 10 krones? I don't know what they think they're doing. Makes me glad I don't drive."

A few people start muttering, either to agree with the man or to wonder what some American consultant cares about that. Jane sinks into her seat while Dr. Ahlberg brings everyone back to order. She makes sure to give Jane an extra thin lipped look as she's leaving for the day.

Jane sits in the empty lab room with Hilda and Jacobine chattering around her. She was almost afraid to go with them today. If it wouldn't have looked strange on her part to skip out on them and then go back to her room and sleep the rest of the day away, she just might have.

"I'd never had a sip of alcohol before that night. It was probably the craziest thing I ever did, but I lost the bet and I'm not one to go back on my word."

"Hmmm… and all you had were a couple of beers. Pfft- that is not wild, my friend."

She's starting to regret not doing it.

"Well, we can't all be as daring as you."

"Yes, and you never will be, much as I hate to break it to you."

Jane whirls around. She's been trying as hard as she can not to listen to them, but all this is really starting to scare her now.

Hilda eyes her. "Something up, Jane?"

"Ah- no," Jane says after a beat. "I was just wondering… have either of you ever had a really bad case of déjà vu?"

She doesn't know where that came from. She'd been going to ask about her and Jacobine's side project that they were keeping secret from everyone. Maybe prying them for answers would take her mind off of yesterday, which was starting to feel more and more dream-like as the day wore on. Her stupid, stupid mouth…

"Déjà vu?" Jacobine asks. "You mean that thing where you feel like something has happened before? Why do you ask?"

Hilda behind her shakes her head and crosses her arms over her chest. "I don't know about that, Jane, but you've been pretty out of it all day. Something you want to talk about?"

Of course Hilda _would_ turn it around on her.

"No, I'm fine," Jane says. "Just a little tired. I think I stayed up too late last night or something…"

"Because if you're having any kind of problem, you can come to me," Hilda says with genuine concern that almost has Jane fooled until a devilish smirk appears on her face. "Especially if it's guy trouble, I'm an expert in that."

"It's not guy trouble," Jane says firmly. "Not at all…"

She turns away from the two of them. The last thing she needs is to talk to them or anyone else right now. She glances at the clock, noting the time. In another couple of minutes, Ahlberg will be heading for her office to take her lunch, and then maybe Jane can sneak back to her room and-

The door slams open.

Hilda shouts at the new arrival.

Jane's stomach drops.

"You- you three- you have to come- to the TV room- you have to see this!"

She's slower this time, but Jane gets to the TV room quicker than before, because now she knows the way. She walks in, finds the exact same spot right in front of the TV open and waiting for her. Jane sits down and stares at the chaotic scene of Manhattan under attack as the newscaster speaks a language she still doesn't know.

She's finding it increasingly harder to breathe.

* * *

_Loki Laufeyson_

"What have I to fear?"

"The Avengers, 'Earth's Mightiest Heroes,' that sort of thing," answers Tony Stark. He's holding a drink and speaking smugly, like he's the one in the position of power and Loki is the worthless pawn about to be crushed. Loki doesn't like that, and not only because Stark said something similar in his dream.

In fact, he said those words exactly.

"Let's do a headcount," he says a short time after. "Your brother, the Demi-God-"

That's just like in the dream too.

"-a couple of master assassins-"

Strange…

"-a super soldier and living legend who kind of lives up to the legend-"

He'd never known himself to be a seer…

"-a man with _breathtaking_ anger management issues-"

But that wouldn't be the answer anyway because he dreamed of defeat, and there's no way in Hel that he's going to lose. No, Stark is just predictable, nothing more.

He even comes to stand before him when his romantic spiel is coming to an end.

"There is no throne, there is no version of this where you come out on top. Because if we can't protect the earth, you can be damn sure we'll avenge it."

Loki bristles. His hand that holds the spear itches, his starts to raise it, then eyes the blue circle on Stark's chest. If he remembers correctly from his dream…

_'Stop it! It was a dream!'_

"When will they have time for that, when they're so busy fighting you?"

Stark looks terrified for just a moment, right up until Loki presses the spear to his chest… and the spell fails.

Loki doesn't try again like in his dream, but Stark still makes a quip about 'performance issues.'

Loki makes sure to throw him harder out the window, but his metal suit still shoots after him and knocks into Loki on it's way. He still gets blasted a moment later by Stark in that same metal suit.

It's just coincidence.

* * *

Loki is the future ruler of Midgard. He is the unjustly dethroned true King of Asgard. He is a false son of Odin who has rejected his upbringing in favor of making his own name. He is fierce and unforgiving to his enemies and merciful to those who accept him as their king. He is a great many things and has been known by a great many names.

He is not one to get nervous. He is not one to panic. He is most certainly not a fool in a state of delusion, reliving the same battle again to the letter. He has seen Romanov and the one called Captain America battling Chitauri on the ground. Thor and Banner fight side by side. Loki spots Romanov taking over one of the fliers later on. He lets her go, exactly as he did in his dream.

Everything that is happening now is exactly how it happened in his dream.

Loki forgets where he's going as he realizes this and almost misses Barton on the rooftop, shooting down fliers and the Chitauri climbing at him. Loki tries to ignore him up there, right where he was in the dream.

Because it doesn't matter what any of them are doing or how they are doing it. What happened last night was in his mind and his mind alone. It was some tiny shred of his mind that lacked surety in himself and his army that caused him to imagine an elaborate scenario of how his defeat could play out. Just because things were unfolding like in his dream so far didn't mean a thing. It was nothing more than his mind playing tricks on him.

Barton sees him approaching and readies an arrow. Last night was just a dream.

Barton aims.

It was a dream.

Barton fires.

It was a dream.

Loki catches it.

It was a dream.

The arrow beeps.

It was a-

Loki flies into the building. Pain explodes in his head and he loses his vision for a split second. He forces himself up, fighting the pain that is now back and in the exact same spot as it had been when he feel asleep in that jail cell last night.

Last night _in his dream._

He turns to leave. On the off chance the Hulk appears like in his dream, he doesn't want to be anywhere nearby when it does.

The floor seems to burst apart beneath him. He is again forced off his feet and goes spinning. The Hulk roars and towers over him.

Again.

Loki snaps.

"ENOUGH! You- you are all beneath me! You listen to me, I AM A GOD! I will not be-"

Loki slams on the concrete floor.

Again and again and again and again and again.

Again.

The beast drops him, stomping away like he's been throwing nothing but a sack of potatos around. Loki can hear him this time.

"Puny God."

He finds it increasingly harder to breathe.

* * *

_Jane Foster_

Jane sits on her bed and stares at the floor. She stares so hard, the little cracks start to blur and change shape. She can still hear the sounds of people screaming and celebrating in her ears, can still see Hilda dancing on the table, can still picture the battle weary Thor on the TV.

Again.

She doesn't know whether to go to bed or stay awake. Her eyes are heavy, but her heart and mind are racing. She lays down anyway because the walls are thin around here, and someone is bound to hear if she starts pacing. She closes her eyes, fingering the hem of her blue and white t-shirt, and clears her mind. She opens them and looks out at the starry sky, reciting constellations and star names and the moons of each planets and anything else she can think of that would keep her dual sets of memory at bay for just a little longer.

She soon starts to feel tired, just enough at ease to finally sleep. It lingers in the back of her mind that she's going to have to deal with this in the morning no matter what.

She's anxious about what tomorrow morning will bring.

* * *

_Day 3: Loki Laufeyson_

Loki fell asleep in a cell last night. He memorized every inch of it beforehand. He made sure it was the same one he'd been left in in his dream and then he'd committed it to memory and forced his fitful mind to relax. It would've been much easier if his sleeping spells could work on himself, but he learned a long time ago that performing any kind of spell designed to render one unconscious on yourself rarely worked and was in general incredibly stupid. The most he could do with his power so drained was a simple calming spell, and it worked like a charm.

As soon he feels himself wake up, Loki opens his eyes.

He knows right away that he's not in the cell.

"Sir?"

He slowly turns to the man, sees bright blue eyes unnerve him for a whole different reason than they're supposed to.

"We're ready to go."

Loki looks over his shoulder at the tesseract being loaded into it's case. Selvig oversees and enters the truck when they're done. Loki is going to be the last one in it looks like. He moves as if in a daze. He_ is_ in a daze. He says not a word and thinks of nothing but the lack of pain in his body and the shining, untouched city of Manhattan before him.

He is silent for the entire drive.

* * *

_Jane Foster_

_**'Come on Eileen, oh I swear  
At this moment, you mean everything!**_

_**'With you in that dress, oh my thoughts I confess  
Verge on dirty  
Ah come on Eileen.'**_

Three knocks on the door.

"Time to get up, Ms. Foster, there's work to be done."

"…"

"Do not make us wait for you."

"…"

Dr. Ahlberg walks away. Jane lays in bed unmoving and listens to the song until it ends and a new one comes on. She doesn't know what it is, and she doesn't care. She lifts her shirt to her eyes.

Red.

Louder knocks on the door.

"Come on, Jane, get moving! If you don't hurry, you'll miss breakfast. And I swear, Hilda better not have taken all the coffee again, or I'm going to take that precious headband of hers and make her eat it!"

Jane lifts off the bed, zombie-like. She bypasses the bathroom, the dresser, the pants on the floor, and goes straight for the door. She opens it three inches, just calm enough to care about protecting her modesty. Jacobine doesn't seem to notice.

"Hey, good morning, Sleepyhead!" She teasingly flicks a stray piece of uncombed hair that's in front of Jane's face.

"Jacobine, what day is it?"

Jacobine blinks. "It's Saturday."

Jane's heart starts to sink.

"What's the date?"

"May 4th."

Jane's legs start to give and she holds on tighter to the door. It opens a little more and she's almost exposed to a few male scientists walking by. Jacobine quickly steps in front of her.

"Hey uh, I don't mean to sound insensitive or anything, but we need to go," she says. "You should brush your hair… and put some pants on."

"I will," Jane says softly, tapping her fingernails on the hardwood door. "But first… do you remember that big attack on New York City that was in the news yesterday?"

Jacobine's smile vanishes completely. For a second, Jane thinks she's going to get the answer she desperately wants and needs. Jacobine's brow knit together, her mouth opens up-

And she laughs.

"What? An attack on New York? Jane, what are you talking about?"

She says all this amid pearls of laughter that make Jane want to sink into the floor and disappear.

"So you don't remember…"

"That's a pretty big thing," Jacobine, who is calming down, says. "You must have had some dream last night."

Jane shakes her head and leans her shoulder on the doorframe. Jacobine moves to cover her again.

"No, no, no dream," Jane says. "It can't be…"

"Alright, enough of this," Jacobine says, gently pushing Jane back into her room. "Get dressed and let's go. No more talk of cities being attacked. That kind of stuff is going to make you look like a conspiracy freak or something."

Jane shuts the door in Jacobine's face.

She goes through the motions of brushing her hair and teeth, but she doesn't change shirts.

* * *

_Loki Laufeyson_

"Let's do a headcount: your brother, the Demi-God, a couple of master assassins, a super soldier and living legend who… kind of…"

Tony Stark trails off. He ceases walking as Loki stares at the top of his head. Loki can just see the smaller man's confused look. He flexes his fingers and turns his head, as if he expects to see whatever has Loki's attention. Then, it an act of complete audacity that Loki would never have believed if he weren't occupied with other things, Stark waves a hand inches away from Loki's face.

"Hey, you in there?"

If he's trying to get Loki's attention, he's succeeded, and he's about to regret it. Loki's eyes snap to his, and Stark backs away fearfully. Loki stalks forward, a predator baring down on helpless prey.

"I don't know what this is," Loki growls. "A game or a dream…"

He practically slams the end of the spear into Stark's chest. Nothing happens. Loki sucks in a breath and squeeze the staff so hard it almost breaks in two. He grabs Tony by the neck and holds him just as tightly. Stark gasps for air, his face already turning blue.

"I don't care… this ends _today_. You and your entire pathetic race _will_ bow before me!"

He hurls him out the window. He doesn't know when Stark found the time to make it happen, but his suit flies after him. Though Loki isn't in exactly the same place as he was the last two times, he's close enough that he gets hit again.

In fact, it hits him harder.

* * *

_Jane Foster_

Jane sits in the TV Room, the scene that's growing in familiarity playing out both on the screen and in the horrified audience. The only major difference Jane can find is the moment when she feels a cold hand on her shoulder. She turns to face a white faced Jacobine.

"Jane…" her friend whispers. "Are you psychic or something?"

Jane cannot answer.

* * *

_Loki Laufeyson_

When he catches the arrow, it's pure instinct. He doesn't feel like trying to gloat, he'd rather just get rid of this insipid thing before-

It explodes.

Loki hits the building.

The Hulk is there five seconds later. He roars and starts to charge.

Loki forces himself upright.

"Oh no," he shouts at the beast. "You listen to me-"

It grabs him again and there comes the pain.

* * *

Jane Foster sits in a room full of celebrating scientists and interns, the only one not involved in the merrymaking. She stares at the screen, where the reporter proclaims a victory for planet earth and her new heroes, the Avengers.

Loki Laufeyson turns to face six pairs of enraged and exhausted eyes trained on him. He has a comment in mind, but this time, he doesn't speak it aloud. He doesn't say a word as they chain him up. Then they gag him, and it no longer matters.

Jane Foster and Loki Laufeyson.

At this moment in time, they have two things in common.

One is a single thought running through their minds, that won't be leaving them for quite a while.

_'What the hell is happening?'_


	4. Jane: Days 4- 12

**A/N: Messing with time a little more.**

* * *

_Day 4_

Jane Foster, first and foremost, is a scientist.

It's all she's ever known how to be.

Scientists are practical people by nature. Their purpose is to explore the world and explain it's many wonders in a logical way. Jane is the kind who goes out to prove something thought to be fantastic is, in fact, rational. She wants to prove the existence of other worlds. She's spent her, admittedly short, career risking all chances at credibility to do this, and no matter what anyone else thinks, she is not an irrational person. She does not try to explain seemingly impossible phenomena as magic or the supernatural or all those things she used to believe didn't exist (she didn't, really!).

When they are faced with something strange or fantastic, a good Scientist does not lose his or her head. They put their thinking caps on, so to speak. They ask themselves a few simple questions.

What is happening?

Why is it happening?

How can I prove this is why it's happening?

So on the fourth morning in a row Jane wakes up to-

_**'Come on Eileen, oh I swear**_

_**At this moment, you mean everything!'**_

_**'With you in that dress, oh my thoughts I confess**_

_**Verge on dirty**_

_**Ah come on Eileen.'**_

And-

"Time to get up, Ms. Foster, there's work to be done. Do not make us wait for you."

And-

"Come on, Jane, get moving! If you don't hurry, you'll miss breakfast. And I swear, Hilda better not have taken all the coffee again, or I'm going to take that precious headband of hers and make her eat it!"

The first thing she does after vaulting out of bed is grab her notebook and pens, throw them onto the bed, and run to the door, which she does not open.

"I'm feeling a little drowsy this morning, Jacobine. Go on without me, okay?"

Outside the door, Jacobine tsks. Jane bristles slightly, she's always had this pet peeve about people tsking her.

"You've been working too hard, I knew it."

Jane doesn't like her tone. She'd much prefer Hilda who at least patronizes her intentionally. Not wanting the conversation to go any further, Jane politely shoos Jacobine off and doesn't answer when her friend offers to save her a breakfast scone. Those things never taste good anyway.

Jane rushes back to the bed and snatches the barely used notebook. She manages to rip a page full of important notes in half in her haste and curses loudly. She throws the book back down and runs fingers through her untamed hair.

"At least it'll be back to normal tomorrow," she tells herself reassuringly… and then immediately feels like smacking her head against the wall and screaming her lungs out.

_'Stop. Stop. Deep breath, Jane, deep breath. You can figure this out.'_

She takes several, in and out, in and out. It only helps a little bit. She's still feeling jittery like she just guzzled an entire pot of coffee in ten seconds. She has to wait longer still for her hand to stop shaking, even after her rapid heartbeat has calmed enough that she can no longer hear it in her ears.

She picks up the pen and writes.

_Same events have repeated without change for three days…_

She pauses there, looking over that last word and speaking it aloud in her head several times. She determines that it isn't the right word. Because if this is really happening and this is the real world she's in right now, 'day' isn't going to work. Technically, 0 days have passed since the first time she woke up this way. It's just an amount of time that is, for her, the equivalent of three days.

Jane crosses out 'days' and writes a new word next to it.

_Same events have repeated without change for three cycles._

Yes, that's it. Cycles is a good word.

See how well one can work when they stay calm and focused?

_Every cycle begins upon waking up at 6:00 am (CET), with Come On, Eileen on the radio; first chorus. Followed by Dr. Ahlberg coming to wake me up. Jacobine arrives and makes threatening comment about Hilda's family heirloom._

Just to be safe, Jane writes their exact words in the margins.

_Every cycle ends with attack on Manhattan by Loki, Thor's brother. Thor fights him with team known as 'The Avengers' and defeats him after a lengthy battle. Other members of the Avengers include Ironman (Tony Stark), Captain America (Name currently unknown; further research required), large green humanoid (further research required but strikes me as familiar), unknown man and woman (further research required)._

_Loki and Avengers currently a non-issue, but will look into at some point in the interest of covering all bases._

She goes on to detail every other event of the last three cycles as best as she can remember.

_6:30 to 7:15- breakfast with Jacobine and Hilda, who make idle chit-chat. Minimal participation._

_7:30 to 8:15- First meeting of the day. General outline of next week's work and responsibilities._

_8:30 to 11:00- Observatory time. Spent alone. No major events occur._

_11:30 to 2:00- Second meeting with Dr. Ahlberg and co. regarding recent projects. Attempt was made in cycle two to establish connection with cycle one. Attempt was a failure. Potential conclusion: no one else is aware of the repeating day. Further research necessary to substantiate theory._

_2:05 to 3:00- Late lunch with company. Dr. Ahlberg leaves at this time. Last time she is seen in each cycle._

_3:15 to 4:45- Free time with Jacobine and Hilda. Usually goes until 5:45, but is cut short today at 4:45._

_4:45- Intern rushes in and leads us to TV room, were the battle occurs Live. Time in Manhattan is around 10:45 in the morning (EST)._

_5:55- TV goes out._

_6:20- TV comes back to reveal victory by the Avengers._

_6:21 to 9:30- Celebration._

_At 9:35, I exit and return to my room. I am in bed by 10:00 and asleep shortly after._

_Cycle begins anew at 6:05. Unsure if this is the exact time of restart, or if it happens earlier. Will endeavor to stay awake and see, if not now, then soon._

_All events in one cycle erased at the start of the next. Presumably, this will continue from today, cycle number four, into tomorrow, cycle number five._

Today and tomorrow don't really work for her either, but those aren't as easy to replace as 'day' is, and so Jane lets it be.

_It strikes me that these notes will likely disappear as well at the start of next cycle. Will use as an experiment before proceeding further._

Jane looks over everything she's written, paying special attention to her play by play of the day's events. She reads through carefully, knowing there is likely a lot missing. Only three cycles isn't enough to burn every word and action she hears and sees into her brain. This leads to the rather chilling thought of just how many it would take. Jane feels her chest constrict again and shakes her head, willing the question away for the time being.

She rips out the notebook page and leaves it on her bed. Then, Jane gets up and grabs her pants. She opens her drawer and takes out the blue and white shirt. She dresses in silence and brushes her hair. Within five minutes, she's gotten herself together and is out the door.

* * *

She goes through cycle four the way she did cycle one, right down to the letter. In the morning, she sits with Jacobine and Hilda for breakfast. She doesn't remember what she said to them in cycle one, so she just answers all their questions like nothing is wrong and initiates no conversation herself.

She gets through the first meeting similarly. She listens to Dr. Ahlberg's authoritative voice handing out tasks and responsibilities.

"You will continue you consultation with me in the Jupiter experiments, Dr. Foster. Meet me in the labs promptly at 11:30."

That's what she's been told three times before. Jane nods her head and waits for the good doctor to look away before slipping out a pen and writing in the notebook on her lap.

_Still no significant changes._

She spends her observatory time everywhere but in front of the telescope. She's in the corner by the door, which is sound proofed on both sides and can't tell her a thing. She tries to remember everything that occurred during her time overseeing the Jupiter project, but she's only getting flashes. Things like pictures of the orbiting moons and one gangly young intern who doesn't speak good English and who Jane is pretty sure has a crush on Hilda, if the way he's always bringing up her name and sweating bullets means anything. Jane pities the poor boy.

She doesn't ask herself why she doesn't remember much. The answer is that she's never cared much for the project, not from her first day assigned to it. It's a simple astronomy job a first year undergraduate could do. Jane is an Astrophysicist months away from her Ph.D. If it wasn't her life right now, she'd find it hilarious.

_When solution to current predicament is found, I must remember to talk to Dr. Ahlberg about getting clearance for the advanced projects. Surely I've proved myself capable by now._

She is suddenly aware of an actual benefit to this time loop: if it continues, Jane could use it to gain more insight into Dr. Ahlberg's work. She is aware of a project involving black holes that relates closely to her own research into Einstein-Rosen Bridges. It's the very project that those SHIELD agents had lured her in with, like a mouse pulled to a trap by the irresistable smell of cheese. Much as Jane hates to make such a comparison, it is sadly true. She wonders if they knew Dr. Ahlberg would throw her in the proverbial kiddy pool the second she was on her property.

Maybe after a couple of cycles with the Doctor's notes, Jane could show just what she could do when given the chance.

Jane pauses in her writing when she realizes that she's doing it again. She's treating this time loop like a tool or, God forbid, something beneficial to her, instead of the problem it really is. First priority right now is getting as much data on the situation itself so a solution could be found. She could get through to Dr. Ahlberg on her own time, through her own ability, not by breaking into her office and stealing sensitive information on something that could potentially be a scientific breakthrough. It didn't matter in the slightest how much Jane wanted to be a part of it.

She just really, really, really wanted to be a part of it.

Jane blows out a puff of air and rips out the last page. She crumples it into a ball and tosses it aside. She spends the next hour in a state of perpetual boredom, with her ear pressed as far into the metal door as possible in a vain attempt to hear something on the other end.

The second meeting is so boring, she doesn't even write it down. Now that she's admitted to herself that she doesn't care, she can hardly bring herself to look interested in what's being said to her.

_'Yeah, you've told me about the fascinating orbital patterns four times now. It was boring then and it's near torture now. Do you ever shut up?'_

She smiles and nods her head to what's being said, and gives what little insight she can. She can tell by the way her hairs stand up on end that Dr. Ahlberg is staring at her from behind, and she is not impressed.

"We'll be working a little harder next time, Ms. Foster?" she says when time is up and Jane is heading off to take lunch. "You'll never get anywhere without any work ethic."

_'Try building all of your equipment from scratch and almost getting blown up in the process five times, then complain to me about my work ethic,'_ Jane thinks.

"I know, Doctor. I'm doing my best," Jane says.

She treats lunch the way she did breakfast, making little conversation herself and trying to commit everything said to her to memory. When her free time comes, Jane feels a little tense. She focuses on her notebook, which she's shooed Jacobine away from just a few minutes ago with talk of all the work she has to catch up on and how dreary it is. Hilda doesn't care in the slightest, thank God for that.

"I'd never had a sip of alcohol before that night," says Jacobine. "It was probably the craziest thing I ever did, but I lost the bet and I'm not one to go back on my word."

"Hmmm…" Hilda hums and rolls her shoulders. "And all you had were a couple of beers. Pfft- that is not wild, my friend."

"Well, we can't all be as daring as you."

"Yes, and you never will be, much as I hate to break it to you."

Jane writes it all down as fast as she can. This is the part she remembers the most, because now is the time she's usually pulled into the discussion. She hopes what she said earlier to Jacobine about needing to get work done will keep ii from going that way today. She knows it's important to keep things in line with cycle one as much as possible, but she's really not in the mood for any kind of talk right now. Especially not guy talk.

She's not ready to think about anyone else being oblivious to what's going on, least of all Thor.

She's not ready to face the very real possibility that she's alone.

She's so lost in thought, she doesn't realize she's being stared at.

"Boy, that must be some hard work. She looks awful," Jacobine whispers to Hilda, who shrugs.

"They should really give her tomorrow off."

That's more or less the end of all serious discussion until 4:45, when the door bursts open. Right on schedule.

"You- you three- you have to come- to the TV room- you have to see this!"

The next thing Jane knows, she in front of the TV again. She dubs the spot right in front of it 'hers' for now and for future reference. It has the best view of the screen as far as she knows, and it keeps things in line with previous cycles. It doesn't change the fact that she doesn't want to sit there and really doesn't want to watch this battle one more time. She's never been keen on action films the way her cousins and their friends always were. What little time she spent in front of the TV was reserved for educational specials on the universe, and the occasional romance film for her and her mom.

Watching this battle now, for the fourth time in a row… she's not feeling it anymore. Everyone around her is in shock and awe like it's their first time, and she'd be lying through her teeth if she says she wasn't right there with them three cycles ago. She supposes it's just desensitization kicking in. It's come a little quickly, but that's being a Scientist for you. You learn to separate yourself from certain things. This battle for the world is just another part of the conundrum now. It's an action film she's going to watch over and over again until she knows it by heart.

Honestly? It's a little boring too. They can barely see any of the fighting with such a limited scope.

The signal is lost again. Everyone starts screaming, and Jane puts her head down, covering her face with her long hair. To anyone else, she must look terrified out of her mind, too afraid to even look up at the NO SIGNAL sign on the screen. She just doesn't want them to see her bored face.

She leaves shortly after the power comes back, and the Avengers have made a miraculous victory and the world is safe again, how wonderful. She practically runs out of the room, not giving Hilda any chances to find her and drag her into the celebrations that are only just starting, but will soon explode to level bordering on hysteria. Three times now, she's been sucked in. Not this time.

Jane locks herself in her room and rips out every page she's written and spreads them out over her unmade bed. She leaves enough space for herself to sit down and shuffle through them, getting them into their proper order. Her handwriting is not the best, especially when writing fast, but it's legible to her own eye. She can just hear her old elementary school teachers balking.

When she has them in order, she gives them one final read-through. She notes all important events from waking up to the battle in New York.

_'Maybe that's the key,'_ she thinks to herself. She grabs the papers detailing the event from the line up._ 'This battle. That it coincides with this repeating day can't be a coincidence. Can it?'_

She leans back to get a little more comfortable. It strikes her now how very tired she is. She hadn't gotten a lot of sleep the night before cycle one. Is it possible that the lack of sleep carries over to each new cycle regardless of when she turns in at the end of an old one?

When that thought strikes her, Jane finds herself sliding down onto the mattress, her feet pushing papers aside and off the bed while she's in some kind of daze and can't do anything about it. After a moment, she sighs and brushes the rest of the papers off. She really is far more tired than she realized. This whole repeating day scenario is going to be exhausting, she can feel it.

So she'll just get back to work tomorrow, or when cycle five starts. Whichever.

_'All your notes will be gone by then,'_ says the voice of reason in her head.

_'Then it doesn't matter when I go to sleep,'_ she answers. _'I need more data if I'm going to figure anything out anyway, and I can't get that until a new cycle starts. If I need to write it all down again, then so be it.'_

Jane finds comfort and resolve in this reasoning, and slowly drifts off to sleep.

* * *

_Day 5_

_**'Come on Eileen, oh I swear**_

_**At this moment, you mean everything!'**_

_**'With you in that dress, oh my thoughts I confess**_

_**Verge on dirty**_

_**Ah come on Eileen.'**_

Jane opens her eyes.

_knock knock_

Jane looks at the door.

"Time to get up, Ms. Foster, there's work to be done. Do not make us wait for you."

Jane mouths along with Dr. Ahlberg, then hears her walk away.

Seconds pass.

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK_

"Come on, Jane, get moving!" Jacobine shouts.

She looks at the desk.

"If you don't hurry, you'll miss breakfast."

Her notebook is there.

"And I swear-"

Completely intact.

"-Hilda better not have taken all the coffee again, or I'm going to take that precious headband of hers and make her eat it!"

Brand new and unused.

"OH MY GOD!"

Jane shoots out of bed. Outside, she hears Jacobine yelp, followed by a thump. She regains herself and bangs on the door.

"Jane, are you okay? What was that!"

Jane throws is open. Jacobine's eyes widen and she moves to cover Jane's exposed lower half.

"What the hell are you doing?" she demands.

Jane doesn't answer, she just stares. She stares at Jacobine until her eyes feel ready to fall out of her head. Jacobine doesn't notice at first, but when she does, she shrinks under Jane's penetrating, nearly crazed gaze.

"Uh… if you're okay, I'm just going to go on ahead," she takes a small step back. "Get some pants on and meet us there. I'll uh… I'll save you some juice or something…"

She all but runs down the hall and out of sight. No one else is around, so Jane doesn't move for a long time. When she does back into her room and slowly closes the door, she immediately falls against it face first and slides to her knees, forehead scraped by little pieces of metal that are too weak to do more than scratch.

"Oh my god…" she says again, softer, more fearful. Tears are welling up in her eyes. "This is happening. This is really happening. This is real…"

She moves to sit and wraps her arms around herself to quell the shaking.

"Why? I don't understand… Why me? Why is this happening to me?"

She looks up at the ceiling. It's cold, gray concrete hides the sky from her, and Jane doesn't even know what she's saying. She thinks it would be nice if there was someone listening to her pleas, but Jane is a scientist, first and foremost.

She gets no answer.

* * *

She walks around in a daze all day. From breakfast, to both meetings, to those once coveted two hours of free time. She doesn't listen to anything this time. The scientist in her seems to have taken a long vacation and taken her brain with it, because she can barely string two words together. When one of her co-workers attempts to get her attention by tapping her on the shoulder, she jumps ten feet in the air with a horrible scream. Everyone, even Dr. Ahlberg stares at her, as she struggles to speak and eventually just runs out of the room when nothing will come to her.

When she's finally alone with Jacobine and Hilda, she sits as far away from them as possible. She doesn't care to listen and see if they're having the same conversation again, or if they're just staring at her wondering if she's completely lost it. The general silence in the room would imply the latter. Too bad Jane can't bring herself to care.

She stares at the wall aimlessly. Her mind seems to move a mile a minute, and yet she's not thinking about anything. The clock out the corner of her eye reads thirty minutes after four. Ten more minutes before the intern arrives. She thinks she might skip it this time. It's not like she'll never have another chance to see Manhattan get pummeled.

Nope, she's got all the time in the world!

Jane slumps over, the side of her head hitting the wall hard. Pain shoots through her temples and goes ignored, as does the thumping of shoes on floor until Hilda is standing over her and in her line of sight.

"Jane, what's with you today?"

Jane looks up at Hilda's blush covered cheeks and purple lined eyes, and looks right back down. Hilda's hand on her shoulder squeezes hard.

"Oh no, do not ignore me, my friend," she says as she forces Jane to look up. Jane glances away from her, and Hilda shakes her. It doesn't work.

"I'm fine, Hilda. Leave me alone," Jane says in a droning, robotic tone. Well, at least her mouth is working again.

Too bad she still can't say anything convincing.

"You've been acting weird all day! All jumpy and despondent, are you getting sick?"

Hilda places a hand on Jane's forehead and cheeks. Jane wishes she'd stop, but can't bring herself to even push her away.

"I'm fine," she says again. "Everything's just wonderful. It would be better if I could have some time alone, thank you."

Hilda huffs and looks up at Jacobine, who shakes her head.

"She was like this this morning too. I don't know what's gotten into her."

And that's about enough for today.

Jane gets to her feet, a little wobbly at first from sitting so long with her legs crossed, and brushes by Hilda. She doesn't care for the look on her face or the way Jacobine looks ready to approach her. She's only got a few minutes left before the intern shows up.

"I'm going to turn in early," is all she says as she walks out the door.

She's gone ten steps, and then Jacobine and Hilda are following her down the hall. Jane groans openly. Why can't they just let her be for once?

"Jane, hang on!" Jacobine calls out. "Don't you have to meet Dr. Ahlberg later on for your review?"

"It's been cancelled," Jane shouts back. "Something urgent came up. I'm going to bed."

"You know, if you're sick, we do have an infirmary," Hilda says. Her heels strike the floor in perfect time, so loud that they seem to bite into Jane's ears and make her wince. She'd love to just rip those things off and toss them into the incinerator. There's an idea she should run by Jacobine tomorrow. "There's also a psychologist on staff. Good to have around when you're so isolated like this. Cabin fever and all that?"

Jane barks a laugh and walks faster. Cabin fever. Wouldn't that be nice?

She breaks into a sprint. She's never been a good runner, always coming close to last in high school gym class, but she puts her all into it this time. She feels like she's flying as she turns the corner and disappears from the sight of all others forever. At least until tomorrow.

She wonders later on if Hilda and Jacobine were at the party this time.

* * *

_Day 6_

_**'Come on Eileen, oh I swear**_

_**At this moment, you mean everything!'**_

_**'With you in that dress, oh my thoughts I confess**_

_**Verge on dirty**_

_**Ah come on Eileen.'**_

"Time to get up, Ms. Foster, there's work to be done. Do not make us wait for you."

"Come on, Jane, get moving! If you don't hurry, you'll miss breakfast. And I swear, Hilda better not have taken all the coffee again, or I'm going to take that precious headband of hers and make her eat it!"

"Maybe I will talk to that psychologist…" Jane thinks aloud.

If nothing else, it'll be a change of pace.

* * *

The psychologist's name is Dr. Louis Averman. Like Jane, he's not a native Norwegian. He hails from England, as his thick accent implies. He's a man in his sixties; medium height with a wrinkling face framed by pristinely cut and brushed snow white hair. His eyes are light blue and full of warmth, as is the smile he wears that never seems to fade. On his desk is an array of photos: himself holding and kissing the cheek of an equally gray and wizened woman; two young men, who share both his eyes and his smile, holding newly caught fish on a line; a little girl in a pink party dress and plastic crown, curtseying at the camera while displaying a mouth full of holes and baby teeth; one of the young men in the second photo, leaning over a sweaty, yet beaming woman in a hospital bed who holds a newborn baby in her arms.

They look like a happy and loving little family. She thinks if she looks closer, she'll find a group photo of them all sitting around a table on Christmas or something, looking at the camera and smiling big. It must be nice.

Dr. Averman is looking over a medical text with his back to her. Jane hears the rustling of pages, and an occasional hum from the doctor when he presumably finds something interesting, but not helpful to Jane's predicament. Jane sits on a very nice, upholstered couch with her feet firmly on the ground. There are the requisite diplomas and commemorations all over the walls that all bare the doctor's name. They look very impressive. That Ph.D. on the south wall in particular…

Other than that, Jane can't say she's enjoying herself. The bland yellow of the walls and rough green carpet don't make for a welcoming atmosphere. Unless it's just her. She's only now remembering how much she hates doctor's offices, especially psychologists'. That last time she went to one of those was when she was nine. That doctor was Dr. Averman's polar opposite. He was tall and lanky with slicked back black hair and beady brown eyes. His eyebrow had an odd curve to them that made it look like he was always scowling. Whenever he smiled with his eyes like that, Jane felt uncomfortable, like he was about to attack at any moment. He'd been forceful with her treatment too. He prescribed to the belief that you would never get through to a patient using kid gloves. You had to stop being nice and make them face the problem head on.

"Look into my eyes, Jane," he would say. "Don't look away. You look away and we'll have to do it over. Look at my eyes and repeat after me-"

"My mother is dead and it isn't my fault."

"Sorry, what was that?"

Jane's head shoots up. It's the first time she's aware that she's lowered it. She feels like she might have dozed off for a second there. It wouldn't be a stretch, she suffers the same lack of sleep every morning now. What really shocks her is that she actually said _that_ out loud. Where had that even come from anyway? This office was messing with her head, drudging up old memories she wanted buried until the end of time. Why on earth did she come here again?

"It's nothing," Jane says. "I spaced out for a second there, that's all."

She smiles politely, but doesn't think he's buying it. Would he study her this way, like she's a new test he's just been handed, if he did?

Dr. Averman closes the book and sets it down, then takes a seat in the dark red leather chair that is the only nice looking piece of furniture in the room.

"So you feel you're having… some sort of memory problem, Ms. Foster?"

Jane leans back into the cushions, lacing her fingers together over crossed legs.

"It's a little more complicated than that…" she trails off.

"I noted in your initial explanation of why you're here that you had a keen interest in the phenomena of Déjà vu. Have you been experiencing it as of late? Perhaps excessively?"

Jane bites back a laugh and stops short of shaking her head. She thinks for a moment that 'excessive' is a good word for it, but then comes to realize that this is so much more than that. So much that there is no word to describe it. Impossible would have been good, except it's actually happening to her, so now even that's not going to cut it.

Why the hell did she come here?

"I've been… Lately, I've just- wait a second."

Dr. Averman nods. "Take your time."

Jane recognizes that tone. The therapist of her child did the same thing on her first few visits, speaking softly and asking her questions about herself, giving her ample time to answer and never doing more than just nodding along. That went on until he felt they were well acquainted and comfortable enough with talking to each other to get on to the real therapy. She'd been too nervous to tell him he was only half-right. Here and now, Jane says a silent prayer that Dr. Averman is nothing like that, then starts trying to figure out where to go from here.

She takes a deep breath.

"I've been kind of stressed out, sorry."

"Oh, that's alright," Dr, Averman says. "Believe me, when you work here long enough, you're bound to get a little cabin fever. No need to fell bad."

"Thank you," Jane says robotically. "What I've been trying to say is… I- I've been having this dream."

His eyebrows shoot up, and his smile remains. It's not a nice combination, it makes Jane feel like he's looking down on her. Any second now he's going to pat her on the head and give her a lollipop.

"A dream?"

She nods, hopefully with clear conviction. "It's a recurring dream. I've had it the last few nights… and in my dream, I'm reliving the same events over and over again."

Dr. Averman nods, his face unchanged as he makes a cage with his fingers.

"Alright, can you clarify for me? Do you mean you are having the same dream repeatedly, or that there is repetition in the dream itself?"

"That one. The second one, I mean," she amends. "Like… I start off having breakfast in the mess hall, and then I'm working with Dr. Ahlberg, and then I'm in my room again getting ready for bed, and then from there it all just… starts again."

"So you're dreaming about some kind of time loop," Dr. Averman says. "Does anything significant happen? Perhaps a sudden breakthrough in your research or something tragic? Or is it all just mundane events, things you experience every day?"

Jane tries not to visibly fidget. She doesn't like the way he's looking at her, like he's reading her mind and knows how much she's leaving out. She keeps seeing the TV screen in her mind, showing the destruction of an entire city and the monsters responsible for it. In another four hours, that's going to be reality, only to be wiped away at the start of the next cycle. Thinking about it like it's a dream is surreal. If only it were true.

For the third time today, she wonders why on earth she came here.

"It's mostly just what I told you," she said softly. She read once that breaking eye contact is a sure sign that someone is lying, so Jane keeps her eyes straight on his and hopes there's nothing else her body is involuntarily doing to give her away.

Dr. Averman nods. He does that a lot, she's noticed. The doctor from her youth did that too. Is this some kind of therapist thing?

"And how many times have you had this dream?"

Jane goes to shrug, but it turns into a full roll of her shoulders. It eases her tension a bit, but she'd still like to get out of here as fast as possible before her whole body seizes up.

"I don't know… a couple of times over the past few days. Two times- three maybe… I haven't really counted."

"I see," Dr. Averman doesn't nod this time. Jane is relieved. Then he stands and starts pacing, and Jane doesn't know how to take that. "Tell me, Ms. Foster, how long have you been here with us on the island?"

"About a week, maybe more," Jane says.

"And you first started having this dream…"

He waits for her to answer, but Jane takes longer than necessary as what he's implying becomes clear to her. Now all she can think is that she should have come up with a better cover story.

_'Like what?'_ says the snide little voice in her head. Jane inwardly sighs.

"A few days after arriving," she says, then attempts to feign perplexity. "You're thinking there's a correlation?"

"Well, I don't want to say anything for sure just yet," he says. "I have read several books specializing on dream interpretation. I wouldn't call myself an expert in that particular field, but dreams of repetition are thought to reflect your daily routine. Perhaps there is something you've been doing that you shouldn't be doing, or something you _haven't_ been doing that you _should_ be doing."

Jane's eyes flick to the ground and she inhales deeply through her nose, letting the breath out through her mouth.

"You don't have to tell me anything if it makes you uncomfortable," he goes on to say as he comes to a stop behind his chair. He puts his hands on the upper frame. "But I'd like you to think about everything you've been doing since you arrived here, anything that leaves you unsatisfied or frustrated. Think about what you can do to improve the situation, if not completely rectify it. Think about things you may want to say or do that you may be afraid to. I can't guarantee the dreams will stop, but you may find you have a better grasp of things. More control, so to speak."

Jane pauses to think that through. On the surface, it's not at all helpful to her, but maybe if she looks a little deeper, she'll find something. Or maybe she's just desperately grasping at straws. She might have a clearer head if she leaves soon. She stands up and reaches out to shake his hand.

"I see… well, thank you, Doctor. You've given me a lot to think about."

"Not at all," he says, smiling. "And my door is open whenever you wish to talk again. I'm free all day tomorrow and the next day."

Jane almost smiles back at him, but only manages a twitching of the right side of her face.

"I'll keep that in mind."

* * *

_Day 7_

_**'Come on Eileen, oh I swear**_

_**At this moment, you mean everything!'**_

_**'With you in that dress, oh my thoughts I confess**_

_**Verge on dirty**_

_**Ah come on Eileen.'**_

"Time to get up, Ms. Foster, there's work to be done. Do not make us wait for you."

"Come on, Jane, get moving! If you don't hurry, you'll miss breakfast. And I swear, Hilda better not have taken all the coffee again, or I'm going to take that precious headband of hers and make her eat it!"

Jane sluggishly pulls herself out of bed. She drags her feet to the door, which Jacobine is pounding on again because Jane hasn't answered her. Each time Jacobine's fist connects, it sends reverberations through Jane's head and makes her feel more off balance. She steadies herself against the wall and then the door.

"Go on without me, Jacobine," Jane says, the side of her face pressed against the chillingly cold metal. "Let Dr. Ahlberg know I'm taking the day off to rest."

Jacobine goes quiet for a few seconds.

"Jane, are you allowed to do that?"

"Just tell her I have a bad headache and can't leave my room. I really do have one. It's a wonder that I could even get out of bed and talk to you."

"Migraine, huh?" Jacobine says sympathetically. "My mother used to get those. Don't worry, Jane, I'll cover for you. You just worry about getting better."

"Thank you, Jacobine," Jane says. It's the first genuine thing she's said.

She waits to hear Jacobine walk away, and once her footfalls can no longer be heard, Jane walks back into her room and flops down on the bed. She's asleep in seconds.

When she wakes up three hours later, there is no sign that anyone has been around. There are only three keys to her room. Jane has two of them, and the third is kept in the reception area and only to be used in the event of an emergency. Jane's room is undisturbed, from the shoes in the corner to the notebook on the desk. She slides out of bed with more ease than before and significantly less fatigue. She's still not exactly sunshine and rainbows, but it's a start.

It would be great if she could just stop thinking about what Dr. Averman said to her.

"Perhaps there is something you've been doing that you shouldn't be doing, or something you haven't been doing that you should be doing."

Jane snorts sardonically.

"Because wouldn't it be nice if _that's_ all it took."

It would be even nicer if she could've told Dr. Averman the truth and not have him thinking she was out of her mind. Then Jane might start to think that she was too. Sure, it all would be erased the next day whether he believed it or not, but there was not a single pro to it that she could think of. If someone, especially a complete stranger, came up to her and told her they were living in a repeating day and that they were the only one aware of it, she'd never believe it. She'd call the cops to cart this obvious mental case away before she believed it. Why should anyone act any different?

Why should anyone believe her?

Jane rolls over onto her side and curls up into a ball. A few strands of hair land on her face and tickle her cheek. She tries twice to blow them aside and gives up when she fails. She's only just woken up and she's not even tired, but she can't seem to get herself up. It's only just occurring to her how alone she is, and not just because she's shut herself up in her room for the day.

She is alone. She is more alone than any human being should have a right to be. She was never very social to begin with, with few close friends and a noticeable lack of family. In high school, she was the girl who sat in the library during study periods and actually read, who stayed home from Prom to finish a homework assignment. The difference was that even then, she still had someone she could talk to; someone to confide in.

She had an Erik.

She had a Darcy.

Hell, she might have even had a Thor.

But, of course, she wasn't stuck in a day that never ends either.

For the rest of the day, Jane lays on her bed in her 10 by 8 foot room with cement walls and an overhead light bulb as her only salvation from total darkness, and she is alone.

She is completely, utterly, hopelessly alone.

* * *

_Day 8_

_**'Come on Eileen, oh I swear**_

_**At this moment, you mean everything!'**_

_**'With you in that dress, oh my thoughts I confess**_

_**Verge on dirty**_

_**Ah come on Eileen.'**_

"Time to get up, Ms. Foster, there's work to be done. Do not make us wait for you."

"Come on, Jane, get moving! If you don't hurry, you'll miss breakfast. And I swear, Hilda better not have taken all the coffee again, or I'm going to take that precious headband of hers and make her eat it!"

Jane tells Jacobine it's a stomachache today.

* * *

_Day 9_

_**'Come on Eileen, oh I swear**_

_**At this moment, you mean everything!'**_

_**'With you in that dress, oh my thoughts I confess**_

_**Verge on dirty**_

_**Ah come on Eileen.'**_

"Time to get up, Ms. Foster, there's work to be done. Do not make us wait for you."

"Come on, Jane, get moving! If you don't hurry, you'll miss breakfast. And I swear, Hilda better not have taken all the coffee again, or I'm going to take that precious headband of hers and make her eat it!"

Jane goes with the headache excuse again. Maybe tomorrow, she'll go with a fever.

She spends the day flipping through the pages of random texts, counting the bricks on the wall and watching the light bulb flicker from bright to really bright. She finally gets tired enough to try sleeping at around five. No doubt everyone's already in the TV room watching the big invasion. She hasn't seen it since the fourth cycle, but if she remembers correctly, now is about the time that redheaded woman takes over one of the fliers after tag teaming with Captain America. They'll be victorious by the time the clock strikes six. Maybe tomorrow she'll get out long enough to watch it again. But then again, maybe not.

Jane slides under the covers and closes her eyes. Despite her general lack of activity all day long- or perhaps because of it- she's asleep in minutes, completely dead to the world.

She doesn't hear it when there's a knock on her door at 6:15. She doesn't hear Jacobine's shaking voice call out to her.

"Jane… Jane, are you awake?" she says. She sounds so terrified, like she's about to cry. She ceases knocking now and starts jimmying the door knob. "Jane, you need to get up. Something awful has happened. On the news, they-"

She chokes on a sob, and then another, graver voice joins hers.

"Let her sleep, Jacobine," Hilda says. "She'll find out in the morning. At least let her have a few more hours of peace. It's more than any of us are going to get for a long time…"

Jacobine dissolves into soft cries, and Hilda's whispered words of comfort, words she may not even believe herself, are muffled beyond recognition by the door and her own wavering voice. She may be on the verge of tears herself. Somewhere in the distance, perhaps a few doors down, there is more crying and sounds of panic. It goes on for the rest of the night, long after Hilda and Jacobine have shuffled off.

Jane sleeps on.

* * *

_Day 10_

_**'Come on Eileen, oh I swear**_

_**At this moment, you mean everything!'**_

_**'With you in that dress, oh my thoughts I confess**_

_**Verge on dirty**_

_**Ah come on Eileen.'**_

"Time to get up, Ms. Foster, there's work to be done. Do not make us wait for you."

"Come on, Jane, get moving! If you don't hurry, you'll miss breakfast. And I swear, Hilda better not have taken all the coffee again, or I'm going to take that precious headband of hers and make her eat it!"

Jane opens her eyes on Jacobine's final word. She stares at the ceiling, the cracks in which she's spent the past three cycles memorizing. She feels different this morning, better even. She sits up in bed and listens to Jacobine bang on the door and call out to her for over five minutes. She's never waited this long before. By the sixth minute, Jacobine gives up and walks away. Jane thinks she hears her talking to herself about heavy sleepers and 'that's what happens when you overexert yourself!'

Jane laughs out loud, and then puts a hand over her mouth in shock.

She just laughed.

Jane lifts her head, looks at the clock overhead and the work desk underneath it. That infamous notebook sits in the center, pristine and awaiting use. Her head fills with things she could write down, things all about her predicament that will be erased at the next starting point. For once, she doesn't care about that.

What was she doing anyway, laying around in here like an invalid?

What good was she doing herself?

What happened to her zeal from cycle four?

Jane rises, grabs up her pants and hastily dresses herself. She throws off her shirt, pulling a new one that is neither blue nor white out of her drawer and putting it on. She's got all her things and is in the hall without a moment's hesitation.

It's like a breath of fresh air. She's been cooped up in that room far too long.

She goes about her day as she did in cycle four. Luckily, she remembers the first four cycles well enough to go about it with minimal changes. All major events happen in sequence, from her breakfast with the girls, right down to the intern rushing in at 4:45.

"You- you three- you have to come- to the TV room- you have to see this!"

Jane sits herself in her usual spot, legs crossed one over the other and watches with perfect composure. She doesn't bother to hide her lack of fear today. She can sense a few incredulous stares on her, but mostly everyone's too engrossed with what's on the screen. Thor appears on schedule, fierce in battle. He looks good. Jane smiles a little.

She sees Loki shortly after, and like all the others times, only for a split second.

It's odd, though.

The first four times this happened, she could've sworn he was frowning, his face wrought with cold determination.

Here in this cycle… he looked like he was _laughing._

Jane thinks about it, then shakes her head. She'd seen his face through a clouded lens for all of one second. She must have been seeing things. Either that, or he's always been like that and she's just never noticed. He _is_ supposed to be insane.

She files it away to be examined in the next cycle, not expecting to find much of anything and likely to forget later on when something more important came to her attention.

She leaves right as the party starts.

* * *

_Day 11_

_**'Come on Eileen, oh I swear**_

_**At this moment, you mean everything!'**_

_**'With you in that dress, oh my thoughts I confess**_

_**Verge on dirty**_

_**Ah come on Eileen.'**_

"Time to get up, Ms. Foster, there's work to be done. Do not make us wait for you."

"Come on, Jane, get moving! If you don't hurry, you'll miss breakfast. And I swear, Hilda better not have taken all the coffee again, or I'm going to take that precious headband of hers and make her eat it!"

_'I think I'm going to stay up tonight,' _Jane thinks._ 'Find out exactly when each cycle starts and what would happen to me if I'm awake for it. Chances are, I'll revert back to the beginning like everything else, and wake up just like this. A couple of days of that should confirm it.'_

"Jane, are you there? Wake up!"

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK_

_'Maybe I'll talk to Dr. Ahlberg today too.'_

"Jane!"

"I'll be right there, Jacobine. Give me a second."

As per previous cycles, Jane doesn't get a free moment with Dr. Ahlberg until after 11:30. She finds her, as always, standing over the group of scientists heading the project, looking over their work with an analytical eye. Everything about Dr. Ahlberg is dark and neat, from her hair to her eyes to her black nail polish that never seemed to chip and is always perfectly applied. Her hair is pulled back into a tight bun, not a strand out of place. She's an older woman, not particularly attractive, but with a serenity to her that draws attention just as much, if not more, than traditional beauty. She wears a simple gold wedding band, but no one knows anything about her husband, or if he even exists. Jane has been in her office exactly one time, and there wasn't a single photograph on the walls or on her desk. There were no knick knacks or potted plants or anything to bring some life into the room. It was as cold and formal as the woman herself. If it weren't for that ring, the only piece of jewelry she's ever worn, nobody would believe she had a single person in her life.

Jane waits a few minutes to approach her, first pretending to concentrate on recent developments. When she's bored enough with that to move on, Dr. Ahlberg is further down, right by the door. In another five minutes, she'll be leaving and that'll be the last chance Jane has to speak with her until tomorrow. She excuses herself distractedly and heads in her direction.

"Dr. Ahlberg?"

The older woman doesn't look up right away. When she does, it's a quick glance before she goes back to looking at the screen.

"Ms. Foster, is there a problem?"

"No, Ma'am, I just…" Jane pauses as she draws a blank. She's not entirely sure what she should say or how to say it. She'd like to ask Dr. Ahlberg what she thinks, in a round about sort of way, but it's not coming to her. "Uh… I noticed before that you were talking about the black hole project earlier and I was wondering how-"

"Ms. Foster, we've discussed this," Dr. Ahlberg says dismissively as she peruses a clipboard someone just handed her. "Concern yourself with your own assignments and leave everything else alone. We are doing fine as is."

She puts down the clipboard, barks a few words in Norwegian, then takes her leave out the glass double doors. Jane stares after her until one of the nameless scientist she's meant to be assisting calls her over. She is silently fuming for the next hour and a half.

When 2:00 comes, Jane takes lunch in her room, and doesn't come out again. She makes sure to take extra and to stop at the lounge/library to grab a few books.

It's going to be a long night.

At 5:55 am, Jane sets down Pride and Prejudice, no longer capable of reading a word. Her eyes as so heavy, so close to drooping and sending her into a deep and well needed slumber, but she refuses to give in. Her night table and floor are covered with empty chip bags, salad containers, candy wrappers and water bottles. There are also copies of Memoirs of a Geisha and one of those James Patterson books that he wrote with someone else. Jane hasn't touched either of them, sticking with Jane Austen who is familiar to her like a childhood friend. She had been her mother's favorite author.

She takes careful track of the time and of her surroundings for signs of change. So far, nothing at all has happened. She heard a few voices down the hall hours ago, talking cheerfully on their way to bed and more than likely about the Avengers. It's now 5:58; still nothing. Her alarm clock is set to ring in approximately two minutes. What will happen in the second before that, she's about to find out.

There is an overly optimistic side of her that thinks she'll carry over to the next day. That staying up for the full twenty four hours is some kind of magic key that will break the spell and solve the problem. Or maybe the loop can only start again when she's asleep, and her being awake will prevent it, either permanently or temporarily. Both theories were asinine at best, but the second one at least provided a few more interesting questions. If that was the case, and wakefulness would keep the time loop at bay, what would happen if she fell asleep after six am? Say, at seven am? Or what if she managed to keep herself awake all throughout the next day and went to sleep that night? Would the loop be broken by then? Would she go back to the start of the next day? Would she go all the way back to the start of this day?

And if none of this was the case, as Jane suspected, and her being awake would have no affect at all, how would the switchover go? Would she feel anything, or would it be instantane

* * *

_Day 12_

_**'Come on Eileen, oh I swear**_

_**At this moment, you mean everything!'**_

_**'With you in that dress, oh my thoughts I confess**_

_**Verge on dirty**_

_**Ah come on Eileen.'**_

"Time to get up, Ms. Foster, there's work to be done. Do not make us wait for you."

"Come on, Jane, get moving! If you don't hurry, you'll miss breakfast. And I swear, Hilda better not have taken all the coffee again, or I'm going to take that precious headband of hers and make her eat it!"

Jane bolts up in bed. She looks at the floor and night table. They are clean and empty.

And Jacobine is still pounding on the door.

"Jane, are you in there? Wake up!"

"I'm here," Jane says, rubbing her eyes. "I'm fine, I… just making the bed."

Well, at least that answers one question.

* * *

Jane has a hard time keeping her eyes open during breakfast. Hilda and Jacobine don't notice, locked in the same insipid conversation they've been in twelve times now. Jane knows that pretty soon she'll have to start listening to them so she can have as accurate as possible a play by play of each cycle. She tunes in for a few seconds, it's something about Hilda's third college boyfriend, she tunes right out.

Of course, as always, she is soon caught.

"Hey there, Jane, don't fall asleep on us," Hilda said, waving a hand in her face. Jane finds it irksome right away. "I knew it, you're overworking yourself."

"How can I do that when I'm stuck with the kid's stuff?" Jane mutters bitterly.

"What? Didn't catch that."

"Nothing. I just didn't get a lot of sleep last night. Had too much on my mind."

"Ergo, overworked," Hilda says matter of fact-ly, with her arms crossed over her chest and her smile cocky. She swings her legs out and leans back in her chair. "I know that feeling exactly. Working here is great and all, but this isolation can drive you nuts sometimes. Thank God I get to use my vacation time next week, otherwise I might actually try jumping the ferry."

Jane, who had been trying not to laugh at Hilda's 'next week' comment, perks up a little as Jacobine starts shaking her head in disapproval.

"Hilda, don't tell Jane about that, you might give her ideas."

"Are you kidding? Jane's a total goody-goody, it's easy to tell. I doubt she'd actually try sneaking out on the ferry."

"What are you talking about?" Jane tries to keep her bored and uninterested tone from before. It doesn't stop Jacobine from glaring at Hilda, who shrugs.

"Just a thought I had once," she says. "That if you really tried and didn't get caught, you could sneak right out of here and onto the mainland on the ferry that delivers food every week. Like today is a delivery day. The ferry'll come in at 8 in the morning and leave at 9:15. Plenty of time."

"No one is going to try that, Hilda," Jacobine says. "It's far too dangerous and it could mean your job if you get caught!"

"Who are you, my mom? It's just a fun thought anyway," Hilda says. "I'd never actually try it and I highly doubt anyone else would either. Right, Jane?"

"Yeah," Jane says, looking away from Hilda and at the clock on the wall that reads 6:45 am. "Right…"

* * *

**A/N: So this is more like Part one of Chapter 3. Chapter 4 will be a companion piece to this chapter and will explain what Loki is doing all this time. There are a few hints in this chapter. Any ideas? :D**

**Find out for yourself when Chapter 4 is posted either tomorrow or the next day.**


	5. Loki: Days 4- 12

**A/N: Okay! Here's the long overdue counterpoint to Chapter Four, detailing exactly what Loki was doing while Jane was struggling to come to terms with what is happening to her. I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

_Day 4: Loki Laufeyson_

When Loki was a boy, he had trouble sleeping. He was a precocious child, always thinking about something, be it trivialities like what they would have for dinner that night, to bigger questions like how Asgard was founded and how to control the magic within him. While Thor's dull brain was full of nothing but war and fighting, Loki saw so much more in the world to be explored. He had a great many questions, most of which he was never afraid to pose to the All-Father. In those days, before Thor was deemed worthy of mjolnir and became the only important Prince in the minds of all, Odin would meet his younger son's queries with a smile and the pat on the head before leading him to the massive library where they could find the answer. More often than not, it was well past Loki's bedtime when these moments occurred.

It continued into his early adulthood, though by now he would just venture to the library alone. He sought other sources of knowledge as well, learning everything he could, gaining proficiency in magic. He even learned how to fight and hunt thanks to Thor's insistence that he accompany him and his friends to spar and camp out in the woods. His sleeping habits improved, but he never had what one would call a normal night's sleep, and that was fine. After so many years, it was clear this was just how his body worked.

He wakes up for the fourth time in a row with that same archway in front of his face. The nameless soldier is right there waiting for him, eyes looking forward, but almost unseeing.

"Sir, we're ready to go."

That's all he ever says. Loki waits a moment, dimly wondering if the man will say anything else. When he doesn't, Loki pulls himself up and brushes by him. He sees Selvig and those same two men carrying the tesseract's container to the truck. He is supposed to board it after them, but he finds himself rooted in place.

He flexes his fingers a couple of times, running them across his palm. His nails scratch at the sensitive skin gently, creating a tickle. He feels it, so he must really be standing here among the first of many loyal subjects.

For the fourth time.

Loki takes a deep breath through his nose.

He screams.

He doesn't know why he's screaming, he just really needs to right now. He keeps going, starting low and slowly becoming high pitched. The few who aren't under his control stop what they're doing and stare fearfully at him. Some even try to run, shouting about how he'd 'cracked' whatever that meant. Loki would deal with their insolence later, if all went well.

So far, nothing at all had gone well.

None of those whose minds he has taken react, as per the hypnosis. When Loki's throat is dry and he can't go on, Selvig approaches him, completely calm.

"Sir, we need to leave now if we're going to be on time," the ragged man says.

Loki looks at him, a disquieting smile creeping onto his face.

"Well then, we should be off!"

* * *

He finds himself in Tony Stark's pitiful excuse for a tower again. It's a shame this mortal of such baseless arrogance will never see the glorious architecture of Asgard. He'd never have the full knowledge of his own inferiority that Loki would love to grant him. He listens to Stark go through the motions, offering a drink which Loki declines, referring to his staff by the odd title of 'glowstick,' and finally-

"Let's do a headcount. Your brother, the demi-god; a super-soldier, a living legend who kind of lives up to the legend; a man with- I'm sorry, am I boring you?"

Loki, who's been rolling his eyes and sarcastically mouthing along with Stark since he started, isn't sure what the small man means. He slowly closes his mouth. Stark remains watching him at his bar, drink in hand. Loki observes him silently, takes in the entire area around him, committing it to memory. He has this feeling of dread in his stomach that he's going to be seeing it again. He's avoided thinking about that thus far by focusing only on what's in front of him, only now there are wholly significant events replaying themselves before his very eyes, and no one else seems the least bit phased by it.

Probably because they don't know.

That was one of the first things Loki figured out, that he is very much alone in this bizarre repetition. If there was someone else out there that knew, they were unimportant and he couldn't be bothered to seek them out. Not yet.

Stark was on the move now, coming closer, having set down his drink and rubbing his hands together.

He opens his mouth like he's about to speak, but the last thing Loki wants to hear right now is more of Stark's grating voice.

"It's such a nice day, isn't it?" he says.

That catches Stark off guard. His air of indifference drops, and Loki can see for a moment all that lays beneath. Stark is perplexed, unsure how to take that. More than that, he is scared out of his mind. He is facing down someone who could snap in half with no effort, and he knows it far too well. Loki finds some satisfaction in this, and he also, begrudgingly, must commend Stark for his bravery, no matter how foolish it is. He is a true warrior of Midgard, it's such a shame he has to die.

"The skies are calm," Loki continues, walking to the window. He feels Stark's eye on him, and smiles. "But the air is not quiet. Is Midgard always so unpleasantly loud?"

"Mostly it's just New York," Stark says after a moments hesitation. "City that doesn't sleep, they call it."

"I see," Loki says, looking out windows that will be shattered in just a few minutes. "How very interesting…"

He trails off intentionally, then whips around. He greedily buries the image of Stark jumping back half a step in his mind.

"I think I'll be very well acquainted with your New York soon," he says.

Stark misinterprets this exactly as Loki knew he would, and the sight of his dawning anger is a perfect distraction to the dropping of Loki's heart as the truth of those words hits him hard.

"You still don't get it, huh?" Stark says. "There isn't going to be a soon for you. There is no version of this where you come out-"

And here, Stark is no longer capable of speech thanks in great part to the hand around his throat that chokes the life out of him. Loki briefly considers just killing him here, but finds he doesn't have the energy, nor the desire. Unlike the last few times, he is not angry, not at Stark. This game of theirs is becoming little more than just that, and it's just so unworthy of his time.

"I'm sorry, but I don't care to listen to your incessant babbling _again_, Stark," he says as he marches the gasping man to the window, blasts it open, and then casually tosses him over the edge. His sharp eyes catch a glimpse of a silvery bracelet on Stark's wrist that he wasn't wearing before.

Loki sidesteps the armor that shoots after it's master. The wind ruffles his hair, but Loki is unperturbed. He walks out before Stark can fly back up, but thinks about what just happened and comes to the clearest conclusion. The bracelet is some kind of beacon that calls the armor to it. He must have kept it behind that bar of his and put it on when his hands were out of view. What a tepid attempt at deception. Did Stark really think he wouldn't figure it out? The fact that it took him four times to notice is of no consequence.

* * *

Loki tries to get the portal open as quickly as possible, so he can avoid the next little encounter with one of Midgard's 'Avengers.' It is slow work no matter how much he pushes Selvig. By the time his army is on the move, Mjolnir is singing in the distance, and Thor is crashing down to stone floor. It gives a little under his feet.

"Loki!" he screams.

Loki looks down at him. This is the part where he taunts Thor with his poor timing, then engages him in quick battle while the fool tries to appeal to his 'good nature.' Then Loki will stab him in the side to buy some time so he can go on and head his invasion, while Thor goes to try and stop it.

To succeed in stopping it.

"LOKI!"

Loki clenches a fist and turns away. Thor is still calling after him, but Loki refuses to be baited. This is one event he will not repeat, not even if all the Nine Realms' fates depended on it. Loki would not allow his so-called brother to goad him, to taunt him with false promises. Not again.

Loki waits for a Chitauri on a flier to approach. It slows so he can jump on, and then Loki is gone. The tower grows smaller behind him. He stops to look back once, and he sees Thor watching him go before he takes to the air. For one horrible moment, Loki thinks he may follow, but then Thor directs the hammer downwards, and he enters into the fray with Banner's monstrous form. For the moment, Loki is free of him.

* * *

Of course, he ends up back on the receiving end of Barton's arrow. He thinks fast in those seconds about what he's going to do. He could have the flier go faster and miss it, but Barton is quick enough and smart enough to have a second one going at once. Throwing it aside after he catches was more likely to work. There would be no need to gloat if Barton saw that.

While Loki is thinking this over, the arrow closes in. He catches it without thinking, and by the time he realizes what he's done-

**BOOM**

Loki growls as he flies through the air. Next time, he will drop it.

He lands, as always, on the half destroyed floor of Stark's tower. The bar is across from him. He wonders how much alcohol is stored back there and how much he would need to get drunk. He doesn't have a good feeling about Midgardian ale. He fears it'll be too weak for him, but that's irrelevant right now, an issue for another day. Because right now, Banner has just arrived and he's screaming and smashing his meaty fists to the ground and closing in.

Loki stumbles to his feet, needing the wall for leverage. The Hulk stops, breathing heavily and ready to attack at any second. Loki looks at him, completely blasé. Banner doesn't appear to have expected that from the dim light of recognition in his puerile green eyes.

"Not today," Loki says. He shakes his head and turns away, taking three steps.

The Hulk grabs his leg mid-fourth.

Loki doesn't know why he thought that would work.

He's smashed into the concrete again and again. Through the pain, he attempts to count each moment of impact, getting to five before his mind becomes too clouded. Unfortunately, his ears are still in perfect working order.

"Puny God."

Loki doesn't get up, even when his chest stops constricting. They find him there in the person shaped hole in the ground and he doesn't acknowledge them for a second as they are pulling him out and tying him up.

They take him down the familiar path to the park, Central Park he believes, and he grabs the other end of the tesseract's container on his own, with no prompting from Thor or anyone else. He can tell Thor is surprised by his cooperation.

They arrive back in Asgard, and Thor trades the same greetings and Loki gets the same cold glares. He walks the same path to the palace, watches the same guards come to meet them and break off once they're safely inside. Loki finds himself alone with Thor again, walking down the hall the leads to the dungeons instead of the All-Father.

"Father will see you tomorrow. He is not ready to give out your punishment. You will be brought before him at dawn."

Loki would laugh if he could.

He is marched to the cell he now has memorized. He avoids the spot he'd sat on the first time, where there's some sharp pebbles that dig into his legs. He stands until Thor is gone, the door closing resolutely behind him. His eyes adjust to the darkness, and he takes a spot beneath the window, so he can stare at the rusted bars until his eyes inevitably start to droop.

* * *

_Day 5_

"Sir? We're ready to go."

Loki regards the man casually. His lip twitches into a half smile, which turns to a full blown grin when he gets up and walks away from his servants.

"Change of plans," he says. "We won't be doing it today. Tell everyone to store the tesseract away for safe keeping and then spend the day how they like."

There is the tiniest bit of hesitation, and Loki can sense that the man is confused, so much that even the mind control can't hold it back. He still gives an affirmative response and then goes to relay Loki's orders to the rest. Loki hears a roar of questioning as he walks through the darkened tunnels and chuckles. He can only imagine the panic attack Fury will have when his little team of heroes arrives in Manhattan and finds nothing.

No Chitauri.

No destruction.

No tesseract.

No Loki.

He might even pop in on them at some point- invisible of course- just to watch the chaos. It might prove even more entertaining than the actual attack. No, it definitely would. Fury was a leader, his job required that he always be in control. More than that, he _needed_ control. The man was paranoid and easy to anger, even if it wasn't readily obvious. Loki had lived his life learning to read people, to turn their emotions against them. There was little these Midgardians could hide from him. Fury fully expected the attack today, and so he had made plans that hinged completely on it. He would be at a complete loss when he got the news. His meager control over the situation would be snatched from him and that one eye of his would likely pop right out from the stress.

And that was nothing compared to how the Avengers would react.

Loki finds a dry spot at the end of the tunnel and sinks to the ground. His hands rest on the cool concrete, which feels good on his skin and helps him relax. He suddenly sees, in his mind's eye, an icy blue crawling up his arm. He removes his hands and places them in his lap.

He sits there for hours, eyes closed, body relaxed, mind wandering. He no longer hears anything from his slaves, either because he's too far away or they've gone off like he told them to. He becomes aware of the silence that has reigned all this time. It strikes him as odd. Just yesterday Stark had called this putrid place the 'City that doesn't sleep.' Loki had taken that to mean there was always noise wherever you went. Perhaps one could only go underground to escape it. That, or Stark was just exaggerating. Loki tries to focus his thoughts on other things, like what he thinks he's accomplishing by not attacking the city this time when he'll be right back at the beginning in a few hours anyway.

Well, for one, he won't get smashed into a floor today.

He feels his forehead, presses his fingers into the temples. The lack of pain is almost soothing. He should have stopped flying near Barton from the start. It might not help him win, but it would save him a terrible headache. At this point, he doesn't know what he could do that would grant him the victory he deserves.

The situation is becoming more serious, and in turn, more difficult. After four times, it's abundantly clear that running headfirst into the fray like he's been doing will only end in constant failure. He goes over the sequence of events in his head, from the moment Stark touches down on the tower, to his final capture. Before now, he hasn't made any significant changes.

So what if he did?

It was a thought that had crossed his mind before, but that he'd never bothered to think too hard on. Perhaps he'd been cocky before, believing his original plan- one that relied on the humans being too weak and pliable to create a sufficient defense against him- was fool proof and that the problem lay in the Chitauri forces or Selvig's device or something else that wasn't him. Loki is a man of great pride. He doesn't like to admit it when he's mistaken. Four repetitions of the same sorry defeat is what it takes; he needs to rethink his strategy.

He gets up, no longer relaxed enough to just sit idle. His long legs and quick, light steps have him at the opposite end of the tunnel in seconds. He immediately spins around and walks back the way he came. He repeats this numerous times as his thoughts branch off into endless streams. He can see everything, every little possibility for this day.

The first thing to do is take care of Banner. As long as the Hulk is out of the picture, his enemies' chances at victory plummet. He may also have to just kill Stark as soon as he's out of that metal suit of his. Their banter, while memorable, is mildly amusing at best. It would be no great loss. Romanov and Barton were nothing, just a pair of Midgardians with some special talents and little else. They could wait. Rogers, while decent at hand to hand combat, would be powerless without his little team. Really, it didn't matter how he eliminated them or in what order. He has infinite time to figure out the best way. If he failed one day, he could just do it all over again on the next, and get it right.

Yes, perhaps he's been looking at this in the wrong light. This curse can be made into a blessing. Now he has all the time he needs to make his plan a success. He could just see Thor's face when he had learned his every move, his every word, his every thought, and used that knowledge against him.

It could work.

It _would_ work.

He wants to laugh, long and loud. His entire being is full to bursting with reinvigoration. It manifests itself in a delightful chill, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. It is not unlike the blistering, painful cold that lingered in his chest when he was lost in Thanos's realm. The icy feeling continues to spread, and grow in intensity, until it is no longer comforting. It becomes the exact opposite. And Loki's heart stops when the brightly lit tunnel burns away into total darkness. It has long since become clear that the cold he feels is not coming from him.

He sees endless night, blocked in places by a scattering of towering pillars and boulders. There is no order to this realm, it is in perpetual disarray. That alone makes Loki's skin crawl. If he listens carefully, he can hear the cries of countless prisoners, as they await their slow, tortured deaths at the hands of a beast more heartless and cruel than anyone could imagine. Loki knows, he remembers well the pain. If he hadn't been able to convince them of his usefulness (and the way he'd had to grovel like a lowly peasant made him want to smash something), he would have joined the damned souls in Hel ages ago. When he had been allowed to leave with his army, he had made a vow to himself, that he would never set foot in this wretched place again.

It's now occurring to him that he may have miscalculated his earlier excitement. He had almost convinced himself that this repetition of time was a tool, something to be harnessed and used at his will. He thinks now how wrong he may have been. His defeats play over again in his mind, unchanging and inevitable.

What if this is Thanos's punishment?

Loki closes his eyes and then opens them again. He expects to suddenly wake up from this nightmare, alone in his cell after his first and only defeat, knowing for just a few, brief moments that this repetition is and always has been the true dream, and that he will never escape for as long as he lives. Because Thanos will never let him go. Never.

Loki feels a long, sharp spike of a finger on his cheek. It runs over soft flesh, not hard enough to draw blood, but cold enough to make Loki's temples throb.

"Asgardian," the Other's echoing, soulless voice speaks the misnomer in his ear like syrup. "The day has passed, and you have done nothing. Why does the army He so generously provided stand in wait, only to never be called upon?"

Loki forces air into his lungs. It freezes his insides and he doesn't want to try it again. He tells himself not to panic, not to scream and not to whirl around and demand answers. Whether or not this is real, if it is a product of Thanos, he knows he will get nothing. The Other has closed in, standing close enough that Loki can feel breath on the nape of his neck. Unlike everything else in this place, it is decidedly warm.

The Other must be getting tired of Loki's silence. He jabs his finger in hard. A trail of red blood is left behind. Loki is in a daze when he raises a hand to wipe it off.

"Speak to me, Asgardian," the Other snaps. "Tell me what you are thinking."

Loki's hand slowly slips off his face and back to his side. His mind is spinning, he doesn't know what idea is more plausible than the next or what string of words he should utter. It only raises his agitation. All of this, this lack of control, of power, it is tearing him apart at the seams.

"The day was… not right," he finally says. There is a tremor in his voice that he couldn't hide, try as he might. "I didn't feel myself prepared."

"Is that so?" the Other walks around Loki, so that they are facing each other. Loki doesn't dare look away. "And what, exactly, do you think you need that we can not provide?"

Loki stares into blacked holes that are the Other's eyes. He studies every inch of him, his face, his posture. He disguises his anxiety with an analytical eye. For a moment, he doesn't care what the truth of his situation is. The last thing he will ever do is be cowed by these… creatures ever again.

"Midgard is not as modest a realm as this one. It is more complex, more is required for my domination of it."

The Other's claw cuts through the air, stopping a bare centimeter from Loki's mouth. For once, his lack of a reaction is genuine and not a mask. His many centuries of battles, be they fought for the fate of Asgard, or Thor's drunken bullheadedness causing yet another bar brawl, have been good for something. He knows when an opponent intends to kill, can see it in their eyes. He doubts the Other knows this, because he seems angrier now that he has failed again to intimidate him.

"We care _nothing_ for your petty trifles," the Other says. "Your war is yours and yours alone. Once you have given us what we have been promised, you will be of no concern to us. And you _will_ give it to us."

He closes in.

"Do not forget my warnings, Asgardian. You have done nothing yet. You may think your time as our prisoner taught you all there is to His cruelty, but if you betray us, you will find yourself sorely mistaken."

"I haven't forgotten," Loki answers steadily.

The Other retracts his finger.

"You will have it for us by the next sunrise, and not a moment later," he says. "Your petulance has cost you dearly. We will not wait any longer for the tesseract. Have it for us, or you will suffer, greater suffering than you have ever known."

_'Your first threat was better,'_ Loki's traitorous mind says.

"Is that a promise?" he asks, without a single change in expression. He doesn't move or do anything else as the Other draws himself closer. They look deep into each other's eyes.

"It is an _oath."_

The world of Thanos is sucked away from all around him. It disappears into a vacuum, sending him back to the filthy tunnel. Loki blinks, feels his feet planted firmly on the ground, and knows he never left. Air expels from his lungs. How long has he been holding it in. His entire body is shivering, and it won't stop. It's residue from the intense cold and nothing more. Loki has trouble keeping himself upright and slumps over on the wall. It's dirtier than the ground, but he doesn't care. He is shaking harder, more completely. This time, it's nothing to do with any cold.

Loki laughs, long and loud until his stomach hurts. He can no longer breath, sucks in tiny puffs of air on instinct. There is a cornucopia of emotion swirling around, but relief is at the forefront. Relief and joy. After a while, he knows he has to stop before he suffocates himself.

"You- you fools," he says, or rather chokes out. "You have no idea what you are dealing with! You can't…"

Just what they couldn't do would never be revealed and would remain with Loki, as he is overcome with boundless mirth, the likes of which he hasn't felt in years. He thinks of how Thor gets when he's had a certain number of drinks. Too few to be incoherent and not enough to be irrational. He suddenly finds everything around him humorous. He will laugh at the valiant and noble Guardsman passed in the corner with dried vomit on his shirt like it's not the most pathetic sight in the world. Loki, who never before understood how even alcohol could bring anyone to such a state, stands completely sober in the bowels of Midgard, and now it's perfectly clear.

Even when his joy is spent and he falls into silence, he cannot stop the grin on his face. He sees the realm spread out before him once again, his for the taking. He knows now that it is real, saw it in the Other's eyes and heard it in his voice. That deplorable creature may think himself superior and in control, but he is just as blind as the Midgardians. Just as unaware.

Though shreds of doubt still exist, Loki shuts them out. He reminds himself that this has always felt too real to be imagined. He may have denied it at first, but no longer.

There was just one more thing he needed to know.

* * *

_Day Six_

Loki goes through the motions.

He allows Stark to finish spewing his nonsense before 'becoming enraged' and throwing him out the window. It goes without saying, he mastered deception ages ago. When he grabs Stark around the neck, his face shows frustration and rage. It comes out in his voice as well. He's actually just really bored right now.

He still avoids Thor, but that little encounter bares no importance anyway. Thor fought as well as ever with a stab wound in his stomach. Not having it makes no difference, other than to speed things up a bit.

When that's done, Loki flies the usual route on his flier, watching with disinterest the chaos beneath him. The screams of the Mortals are so bothersome. If only they knew what good he could do them if they'd just stop fighting him. This repetition was going to have quite the downside, in giving him less and less patience with their impudence. Loki shakes his head and looks away. It's neither here nor there for now.

He catches the arrow again, braces himself for the explosion and the impact with the stone floor of Stark's tower. It doesn't hurt as much this time, nor does it take him by surprise when the Hulk bursts in. Loki mentally sighs as he gets to his feet and prepares for the inevitable.

"ENOUGH!" he screams, and as he says his lines, like an actor on the stage, he promises himself this is the last time it's going to happen. That's the gist of it anyway. He's grabbed and thrown before he can finish the thought.

Thus, Loki has ample justification for sitting out the rest of the battle and looks perfectly pathetic and pitiful when Thor and his ragtag friends come for him. He goes ahead and asks for that drink, if only because it's amusing how much more angry they look. What nerve he has, to ask them for anyone! Only Stark cracks a smile, however briefly. Loki thinks he might have even gotten that drink if it were just the two of them. Nevertheless, Loki is gagged and in chains within the hour. He's left in a holding cell for the obligatory hour and a half Thor spends partaking in whatever this Shwrama Stark keeps babbling about is. Like the first four times, he passes time by glaring at his hapless guards and making them quake with fear. It's a nice way to boast his morale, knowing that he can still come off as a threat, even when defeated.

Of course, he's not truly defeated. Not anymore.

They arrive in Asgard on schedule. Thor's band of fools is awaiting him again and once the sickeningly sweet reunions are through, the trek back to the palace begins.

Perfect.

Loki keeps his eyes forward, as does the rest of the procession. Golden towers loom over him, a sight he is slowly becoming re-accustomed to. It still baffles him at times that he was only in Thanos' realm for what amounts to a year or two. Time seems to move faster now that he's out.

They make it to the front gates, and suddenly Loki remembers everything. The garden is to the left and down the cobblestone walkway. The sparring arenas are just past them, so close, that he'd had to put silencing spells on his favorite reading spot in the corner of the garden, just so he wouldn't have to hear Fandral and Volstagg argue like children over who got a hit on who first. Inside the palace, he knows which doors lead to the servant's quarters and which to the kitchens. He knows that the first hall they enter leads directly to two places: the dungeons he's been dragged through four times before, and…

"Father will see you tomorrow. He is not ready to give out your punishment yet. You will be brought before him at dawn."

That's his cue.

Loki stops walking, and stands completely still. Thor is too far ahead to notice right away. His hand on Loki's chains jerks, almost making Loki fall on his face. Thor turns around, looking dumbly confused. Loki wishes he could laugh out loud right now. This is how Thor usually looks when someone gets a hit on an enemy before he does, right before he lets out his rage on some other foolish foe. What with his newfound 'maturity,' Loki didn't think he'd ever get to see this again. Another little perk of this repetition. Loki starts to wonder in what other ways he can use it to mess with Thor's head. The possibilities are endless.

And Loki will have plenty of time to think about every single one later, when he's back in his holding cell. He's going to be a little late today.

"What are you doing?" Thor asks. "Come with me."

He pulls on the chain, not hard enough to knock Loki off his feet, but enough to make his arms jerk painfully. Loki remains still, and watching Thor with purpose. His false brother's eyebrow are knotted together.

"Do not be this way, Loki," he says warningly. "You have no choice. I will carry you over my shoulder if I must."

_'Oh, really?'_ Loki challenges with his eyes. He smiles behind the mask. Thor may not see it, but he knows and he grinds his teeth.

"A bit late for a rebellion," he says humorlessly.

Loki turns his head, gazing down the opposite end of the hall and injecting as much pain and longing as he can. Thor is a pliable idiot, and he'll fall for it in a second. Indeed, Loki sees out the corner of his eye that his face is softening. The chains are close to falling from his grasp.

"Is this about Father?" he asks reproachfully. "You wish to see him now?"

Loki gestures lightly with his chin, sucking air in through his nose. He could be holding back tears, for all Thor knows.

"And you will not be moved. It is by the orders of the All-Father himself that you go straight to the dungeons," he says.

Loki looks deep into Thor's conflicted eyes, pleading with him.

_'What do you care? You can do this for me. I'm your_ brother, _aren't I?'_

Thor struggles but a moment longer before he lets out a deep sigh. He yanks at Loki's chain and starts walking… back the way they came.

Loki follows along obediently and inwardly smirks. What's that Midgardian phrase? It's like taking candy from a baby.

* * *

Thor pushes the door open and the throne room spreads out before them. With sluggish steps, he leads Loki inside. It is a magnificent and familiar space, and Loki is almost happy to see it again. The All-Father is seated at his throne, Gungnir at his side. There are delegates from the Council all around him, arguing over something too trivial for Loki to listen in on. A hush falls over them when they see him. Some of them shy away in fear, but most are glaring, with the deepest hatred and loathing they can muster. Loki gives back just as good, and wonders how many hundreds of years they've been holding this in.

They whisper amongst themselves, parting to make a path for the two Princes. Odin is quiet and tense, his free hand clenched in a fist that makes his already pale and aging skin pure white. As Loki gets closer, he counts the wrinkles on the man's face. They are more numerous than he remembers, assuming his memory is trustworthy. There is a bad taste in his mouth either way.

Loki makes sure to never break eye contact, even as Thor beside him gets down on one knee and bows his head. Loki will never bow before the All-Father again.

"Father, I have retrieved Loki from Midgard," Thor says.

"So you have," Odin answers. He gets to his feet. The delegates snap to attention and bow as well, bending low to the ground in a wave as Odin passes. Only he and Loki are still standing.

"He wished to see you now," Thor goes on. "He… he would not wait for morn'."

And, of course, Thor won't make allusions to how easily he was swayed.

Odin nods, but Loki doesn't doubt he's not listening anymore. They are within arm's length of each other, the rest of the world has fallen away for Odin.

"I see…" he croaks. "Leave us, then."

It's a vague request, but none of the delegates are going to pretend it applies only to Thor. They file out of the room before Thor gets to his feet, and not a word is spoken between them. They'll wait until they're a safe distance away, at a tavern somewhere on the outskirts of the city, and drink while trading ideas of what horrific punishments Loki might receive.

Thor leaves after them, without another word or stolen glance at Loki. He may have wanted to speak, perhaps beg for a lesser sentence on Loki's behalf, but he does not. That, at least, Loki is grateful for.

Now that they are alone, Odin gives a long, deep sigh and reaches out. Loki flinches away, thinking he is going to be pulled into a hug or something else undesirable. Instead, Odin's hand finds the gag.

"Shall I remove this?"

His one eye is clear with something that makes Loki's throat catch. It makes him wish so much that he could look away, but that would look to Odin like fear or regret. He keeps vigil with his task and doesn't let himself waver, even when the gag releases and falls useless to the floor. Loki rolls his jaw and the aching dulls to nothing. Odin backs away to his throne, Gungnir clanging in time with his steps. Loki had held that spear once, felt it's power. It was uncomfortable in his hands, now that he thinks about it. Far too cumbersome.

"I had wished to wait until tomorrow to see you," Odin says. "Your mother preferred it."

At the mention of Frigga, Loki feels a stab of pain in his chest. He breathes in deep to dissipate it. She is not his mother, she lied to him like everyone else, she is as worthless to him as the rest of them. That is something Loki must never forget, and what the All-Father can never use to cow him.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you," he says. "But I suppose I've done worse in that regard."

Odin sends him a withering look, failing to see the humor in Loki's words just as he always has.

"Loki…" Odin approaches again, and puts a hand on Loki's cheek. His eyes quiver, but Loki is far too disgusted to care. He backs out of the embrace.

"Do not touch me," he hisses.

Odin looks like he has been slapped, and Loki wants to laugh. Odin has been through battles the likes of which even Thor has never seen, and here he wants Loki to believe that his rejection causes him more pain than those wars ever did.

_'Sentiment…'_

Loki brushes it aside. Much as he'd love to continue crushing the All-Father's hopes for his beloved pet to come home, he has business here. Delaying will only give him more time to try and sway Loki.

"I never believed you dead," Odin murmurs. "Neither did your mother. Even when Heimdall could no longer see you, I always knew you were out there. It was only a matter of time."

Loki snorts. "You think you know me so well? I'd never have returned if I had it my way."

"Yes. Instead, you would take out your grievances on a people who have done no wrong by you," Odin's gaze becomes penetrating. Loki almost flinches. "You would invade their home and attempt to control them. You would make yourself not a King, but a Tyrant, and you fail to understand the difference. That is why you could never rule as you are."

"You speak as though your hands were clean, _Father,_" Loki spits out venomously.

"That has no bearing to this," Odin says, his voice much lower than before. "You may step around the issue as much as you wish, you know the truth. I have hoped and prayed every night since we lost you that you would return. To have it be like this…"

Loki smirks. "But it doesn't really matter, does it? Your precious war prize is back under your thumb. What difference does it make if it's one step below you or one thousand?"

"Loki-"

"Did you think I'd just forget it all? Even if I hadn't tried to take Midgard for myself, do you really believe I would just come back to this supposed family of mine and act as if I truly belonged?"

Loki stops there. His emotions are raging, in his mind and in his chest. His heart is pounding. He bites back all the rest he's dreamed of saying, knowing that any more and he risks losing control of the situation. Already, the All-Father looks about to call the guards to drag him off. If that happens, he'll have to do it all over again tomorrow.

He takes a deep breath.

"But that no longer matters," he says softly. "I suppose I'll be punished now."

Odin grips Gungnir tighter, as if trying to steady himself. "I hadn't wanted it to be this way."

"It would have regardless."

Odin says nothing to refute that.

"For the time being, until something more suitable can be implemented, you will be confined to the dungeons. You will be let out only when I deem you ready, at which point you will again be confined, this time to your chambers. I will strip you of your power, and if you wish it returned you must earn it."

Loki rolls his eyes, exasperated. "Still trying to play the wise mentor, are we?"

"Do not test me, my son."

Loki ignores that.

"And what if I wish to refuse that punishment. I'm sure you'll understand that I would rather not have to spend anymore time in this realm."

Odin's mouth tightens. He stands taller, like the King he has been for millennia and would foolishly try to trick Loki into believing he could be more than.

"Loki, you will never leave Asgard again. Not for many years."

Loki bows his head, hiding his face from view. Then his shoulders start to shake, and for Odin, it must look as though he has finally broken down. A sound of comfort crosses his lips, but it dies when Loki makes it clear that it is not tears of pain running down his face.

He looks back up and he grins like a maniac.

"So it's as I thought," he says. "You are as blind as the rest of them. You, the All-Father, with all your power, you can't even see what is happening."

He lets out a laugh, louder and freer than the one he'd issued yesterday. As if on cue, the door bursts open and several guards run in. Thor must have ordered them to wait in case something happened. Though Odin appears horrified, Loki can't tell if it's because of what he said, or how he is being handled. In any case, he does nothing to stop them when they drag Loki into the hall and towards the dungeons.

"I'll see you tomorrow!" Loki shouts as the doors slam shut.

* * *

_Day 7_

"Sir, we're ready to go."

"Indeed we are," Loki says cheerfully as he draws himself to full height, and the glow of the tesseract warms him. "Let's get going, Gentlemen!"

* * *

His 'defeat' comes quicker today, because by his own admission, he is distracted. He spends the time he should be using to lead the invasion probing the minds of his adversaries. He goes one at a time, skipping over Thor because he's an open book as it is.

He starts with Rogers, the so-called Captain America. He sees vaguely the scrawny imp he used to be and how desperate he was to fight for his country. Loki sees the countless attempts Rogers made to enlist, and must begrudgingly admit that there is something admirable about his determination. It's also incredibly stupid of him, of course, but he doubts Rogers would see it that way. Everything else tells Loki that the man is a depressed, heartbroken simpleton. He takes a brief moment to send one of his doubles into SHIELD's main database to find out what happened to all his little friends. Most are dead, except for the woman he thinks of so fondly. Peggy Carter is her name, and Loki now knows her exact location. He wonders how Rogers would feel about that.

He spends less time with Banner. Somehow the man's thoughts are even more hopeless. Like Rogers, he dreams of a woman he can never have. Loki has an easier time finding where Ms. Ross is and files that information away as well. He will most likely have no use for it, other than to perhaps torment their lovers with all that he could do to them if they fell under into his grasp.

Stark's mind is by far the most interesting. When he is not thinking of his suit or the rest of his creations, there is a barrage of women all lined up in a row. He can hear their girlish giggles and see their alluring bodies, but their faces are muted. They blend in to each other, like Stark has never bothered to remeber them. There are only two he can see with perfect clarity. One is clearly not one of Stark's conquest, but an older woman with a soft beauty to her, whom Loki can't look at for long because she reminds him too much of Frigga.

The second, Loki knows right away. Pepper Potts takes up much of Stark's thoughts, and it appears to have been this way for the longest time, even while he was collecting all those faceless women. Loki can't fathom how a man could love a woman for so long and gain nothing from it, but that is neither here nor there. He's just glad he never let himself get caught in such a trap.

He goes into Barton's mind next and stops short. Amid his former slave's memories of past missions and archery techniques, there is something more. It is buried deep, but so ingrained in Barton's psyche that Loki couldn't have missed it. He see images that, for anyone else of that age, wouldn't be out of the ordinary. For Barton…

And the moment he sees it, Loki goes straight for Romanov. What he finds in her mind matches up perfectly with Barton. That is when Loki abandons the task and goes back to chaos on hand. It's highly doubtful they would have heard Loki's roaring laughter in their heads, but he doesn't want to take the chance. After what he's just found, there are far greater ways to strike terror into their hearts.

So this was what Romanov _really_ meant, when she said love was for children.

When he's sitting in his cell at the end of this latest repeat, Loki gets lost in his thoughts of what he's seen and learned, and just how he can use it. He remembers the mortals who once worshipped him. They had called his the God of Lies, and it's not too far off. What interests Loki now is another patronage they assigned him: The God of Mischief.

_'Well,'_ Loki thinks as he relaxes against the cold and damp wall and smirks devilishly to himself. _'I suppose there's time enough for that.'_

* * *

_Day 8_

He waits inside for Stark, instead of meeting him outside for their pre-emptive stare-off. Stark touches down and goes through his suit removal machinery while Loki lounges on the couch with his boots up on the coffee table. The glass has a crack running across from his weight.

Early this morning, he'd held off on leaving with Selvig and the tesseract to run a small errand. It took him more time to find what he was looking for than when he was seeking out Rogers' and Banner's lovers, but success didn't elude him. He tracked down a particular house in a particular town, and walked, invisible, into a particular bedroom where a particular someone slept. He took a moment to confirm her identity, check in with the other denizens of the tiny abode, and then was back in his hideout and ready to start another day.

He's going to have a very interesting meeting with Barton and Romanov later.

Until then, Loki grins up at Stark, like he's never been happier to see anyone in his life.

"Oh, Anthony, you're finally arrived. I wish you wouldn't keep me waiting."

He resists the urge to laugh at Stark's bewildered face. Whatever intimidation or threats he expected, that was as far from it as possible.

"Yeah sorry, I got… held up."

He eyes Loki's raised feet on his, probably very expensive, table.

"Please, make yourself at home."

"Thank you! It's lovely to see what a gentleman you've become."

Loki then silences whatever questions Stark may have by taking up the book beside him and flicking through the pages. It's a large tome from Stark's personal library. Loki was unsurprised to find it out and open to a marked page when he examined the man's living quarters. A caricature of himself, dressed in a surprising accurate representation of his armor, stares back at him. He will say the artist didn't do his facial features justice, though. His nose is not nearly that large.

"I see you've been catching up on your reading," he says airily. "Such interesting stories you Midgardians tell about us."

"Yeah, I like that one where you bone a horse. That's a good one."

Stark walks snickering to his bar and grabs a bottle of wine, while Loki grinds his teeth and drops the book on the table.

"Yes, well, there have been embellishments…" he boredly inches the book a little more away from him. "But some of those tales have truth to them. For example, my exploits under the guise of a woman."

Stark pops the top of his wine bottle and pours himself a glass, but his eyes are on Loki.

"Is that so?"

"Oh yes," Loki answers with an eager nod. "I've spent a great deal of time as the opposite sex. I've even birthed children, as you no doubt have read."

"Yeah," Stark half-whispers before taking a short drink. "Not gonna lie, those parts kind of creeped me out."

Loki feigns disapproval. "Now what an awful thing to say, Anthony. I'll have you know, I've had some of my happiest times as a woman and a wife. Why, just a few decades ago I met and married a most wonderful man and bore him a son. Our son grew into a fine and handsome man like his father, if not one with a perchance for vice."

"Sounds like my kind of guy," Stark says.

"I wouldn't be surprised," Loki says knowingly. He gets up from the couch and walks to Stark, who has his back to him now as he searches for something else to add to his drink. "My only regret is that I wasn't able to watch my son go out and take on the world. After the death of his father, I'm afraid I fell into something of a depression that it took me far too long to come out of. I still miss him even now, my darling Howard."

Stark freezes for a moment, the bottle of liquor nearly falling from his grasp. He whirls around just in time for Loki's magic to flare, his appearance morphing into that of the woman in Stark's memories. His eyes bug out as Maria Stark's face smiles evilly and comes in close.

"Give Mommy a kiss, Anthony."

* * *

When the Hulk bursts into the destroyed remains of the tower, he finds Loki, beaten and bruised, struggling to get to his feet and escape another fight. The Hulk roars and begins to charge, but Loki isn't having any of it.

"ENOUGH!" he screams, stopping the beast dead in his tracks. "You're all of you beneath me. I am a GOD, you dull creature. And I will not be bullied by-"

He is cut off when the Hulk decides he doesn't feel like listening anymore, and swings a mighty hand at Loki… which goes straight through him. The Hulk gives a confused grunt as Loki's body shimmers and vanishes before his eyes. He then snaps his head around when he hears someone tsking.

"Such rudeness from you," Loki says from his new spot by the elevator door. "Didn't anyone ever teach you not to interrupt when someone else is talking?"

The Hulk roars and flies at Loki, ready to tackle him to the ground, but again, he walks through air.

"Oh, so close," Loki says from right behind him.

The Hulk goes in with a punch, unsurprisingly hitting a mere spector which fades just like it's predecessor. Loki now appears to be several feet away to the left.

"Keep trying, you'll get it right eventually," he taunts.

The Hulk screams and charges again. With each destroyed illusion come another, all over the room until the Hulk is running in circles, at this point so deeply frustrated and enraged that what ability he has to think clearly has long since slipped away. He slams a fist through a double for the tenth time, while the actual Loki stands invisible in the far corner, feeling as bright as a child before a pile of gifts as he creates yet another double, which laughs with him at the Hulk.

* * *

Upon his 'capture,' Loki notes that Stark is absent. It's a bit strange since he knows Ironman was involved in the fight as usual (if perhaps less so). Later on, he hears from a SHIELD agent that Stark's gone back to his tower and is guzzling down his entire remaining bar while muttering something about his mother.

The Hulk appears in a similar state of duress, and Loki imagines he'll have a much harder time calming down than usual this time around. Loki pays him no heed as Thor pulls him roughly to his feet and brings him outside. There are several agents waiting for them with the same old chains and mask ready for him. The Avengers watch with tired, cold eyes as Thor gives his thanks and takes them. The chains are fastened around his wrists first, and then Thor raises the mask.

In his head, Loki counts down to the right moment. It comes right before the mask is about to hit his bare skin and stifle his power of speech. He turns his head slightly to the right, to Barton and Romanov who are standing side by side before him.

"Chloe is doing well."

And the mask goes on, so that Loki can only grin beneath it at their reactions. Romanov is still holding the stolen staff, which she clutches tight enough now, that he thinks she might break it. Her jaw has fallen and a strangled cry issues from her throat. Barton is in a similar state, with the addition of a glare that promises Loki a slow and painful death. It comes off as hilarious to him.

Everyone else is staring at them now, confused and, in the case of several SHIELD agents, completely gobsmacked. Loki just wishes he could see how they're going to explain themselves.

He goes back to Asgard with a spring in his step, and doesn't try to fight off his confinement in the cell. He thinks it's almost a shame that everything will be reset again in the morning. Today was the most fun he's had in years.

Of course, tomorrow is the day in which the _real_ fun is to be had…

* * *

_Day 9_

"Sir, we're ready to go."

He looks at the man's empty expression and nods with a terrible grin.

"Oh yes, we most certainly are."

* * *

He starts with Banner.

After tracking his route in the last several repititions, it's all too easy for him to find an appropriate hiding place, several miles outside the city, in a spot Banner always passes on his motorized contraption. Loki can't be bothered to recall the name for it.

He leans casually against a tree, invisibility in place, and waits like the predetor he has become. It's not long before he hears the whirring of the machine's engine. It's close now, and getting closer by the second. With every inch it travels, Loki's heart beats faster, his hands shake harder, and his excitement rises further. Now Banner comes into view.

Loki works like lightning, casting the spell to completely paralyze Banner's body. His vehicle falls to the ground and takes the prone scientist with it. Powerless to move, and yet still fully conscious, Banner's wide and fear-filled eyes are locked on Loki as he reveals himself across the way.

Now, there are many possible reasons for what happens next. It's not a moment Loki is incredibly proud of later on, and his first reason is that it reflects so poorly on him to have such a lapse in self control, however brief. It may be his general state of turmoil mixed with one too many 'Hulk Smashes' that got him to let out an ear shattering scream, run at Banner and throw him several feet into the air onto the rocks below. He lands painfully on his back, and Loki is pretty sure he hears something crack. He forgets about magic for a moment and concentrates on slamming Banner into the ground over and over again, until his body is a shattered mess. At that point, Loki grabs his chin in a death grip, lifts him off his feet into the air. When he speaks in hushed tones, it is deadly.

_"Puny human."_

* * *

Without the Hulk, the Avengers are weakened.

They put up as much of a fight as ever, and were it them trapped in this repetition instead, they may have one day come upon a way to defeat the Chitauri themselves. As it is, those who remain are chained and on their knees before him by noon. The city they fought so hard for is burning to the ground around them.

Loki walks up and down the line-up. He only has three of them, Rogers having most likely perished in a fire some time ago. Loki didn't stick around long enough to confirm. Stark is similarly missing, having flown off to parts unknown with SHIELD's missile. Loki only found out about that two repeats ago, otherwise he would've killed the annoying man first thing at the tower. This seems just as good a way to get rid of him. He only wonders where over the vast ocean that missile wound up going off.

While sirens and screams and explosions fill the air, Loki calls forth a pair of soldiers to take Barton and Romanov away. They have been gagged, and can only glare at him, with the deepest kind of loathing, as they are pulled to their feet and onto a flier.

Loki bares down on Thor, who is on his knees with his head bowed. Matted blond hair masks his face, but Loki can picture the shame and defeat he is feeling and that's almost as good. Almost, but not quite.

With the end of the staff, Loki forces Thor's head up. The action is soft, a mocking gentleness. The look in Thor's eyes tells him that his false brother doesn't believe for a second that there is love left in him. Compassion. Sentiment.

And thank goodness for that. Loki was getting tired of trying to convince him. So much so, that he can't even derive any joy from his victory over him, just a cold sort of emptiness. Why does Thor always have to ruin everything.

"So, what do you think?" Loki raises his arms with relish at the chaotic scene. "The first step on my road to ruling this rock. It's just a shame your precious SHIELD won't survive to see it's completion. But if you're on your best behavior, you just might."

"Loki," Thor growls. He sounds angry, but doesn't look it. It's amazingly pathetic and Loki can't believe for a moment that he's looking at the same Mighty Thor he stood behind all those years. _"Why?"_

Loki really wishes Thor would stop doing that. Trying to understand, trying to reason with him. If only Thor was reasonable, he would've given up a long time ago. Loki thinks about shifting into his unfortunate 'true' form, and reminded Thor that the one he called Brother has never even existed. If the thought alone didn't revolt him so much, he might've done it.

"Is that really all you can say?"

He waits only a second for an answer, which he does not receive. With a swish of his cape, Loki leaves, walking long enough to hear more of his troops coming back for Thor before he teleports himself away.

He lands at the top of Stark Tower. It's in far better condition today than in the last few repetitions. He takes a quick scan of the layout of this floor. Stark's room is at the opposite end, newly cleaned and made out for him. Loki supposes the man won't mind if he borrows it.

He reminds himself to get new lodgings tomorrow. Much as he'd enjoy taking up residence in Stark's pride and joy- if only temporarily- the building itself is hideous, even more than the rest of this city's structures. Where did Midgard learn such poor architecture. Only a few that he'd seen were even slightly impressive. All the rest would have to go, once he had established his rule over the rest of this realm.

He enters the bedroom and walks straight through it to the door leading downstairs. It's a strange design choice that there would be a door leading to the lab, but that's just Stark for you. It's convenient for Loki as well. He's had everything set up now for hours.

He walks by newly drawn figures and runes all over the empty floors and walls. Loki had an easy time eliminating all of Stark's mess. What he didn't feel like carrying in a dimensional pocket, he'd simply destroyed. This included several copies of the Ironman armor, along with a computer module that extended from the floor to the ceiling. It was strange, because right after Loki ripped it from it's place, he thought he heard a voice coming from it. What it was saying, he couldn't understand, and when he didn't hear it again, he dismissed it as nothing.

With the wide room now clear, Loki had plenty of room to prepare for the intricate and very advanced spell work. It was a reworked version of a time stopping spell Loki had learned fairly recently. Only three hundred years ago, so advanced it was. He had recreated it to work in the opposite way himself, at the time for no reason other than to prove he could. Perhaps _that_ was some form of precognition on his part.

He goes to stand inside the largest circle.

"I don't know why I was blessed with this gift of time," he thinks aloud. "But I have no more use for it. To have it now would only delay me further."

He takes a moment, and begins to chant.

* * *

He goes straight to bed when it's over. With a wave he removes his armor, slightly charred from the backlash of magic. It had been intense, but entirely worth it. All of Loki's examination afterward spoke of nothing but success. The spell had worked. He is free of the repetition.

He isn't really tired, but he lays down regardless, knowing that he has some very big days ahead of him. More land to conquer, more foes to defeat. Of course, none of them could be as formidable as the Avengers had been (not that that was saying much), but at least he would be spared the headaches.

Loki lays awake for hours, reveling in his victory and those that are to follow. Who knows what will happen once he's finally in control, what he can do.

Well, aside from keeping the tesseract as far from Thanos's filthy hands as possible.

There is a woman out there, small and plain, who somehow did for Thor what no one else could. What was her name? Jane something?

If Loki remembers correctly, he promised Thor that he'd pay her a visit sometime.

That's one possibility.

* * *

_Day 10_

Loki remembers yesterday's events the instant he wakes up. A grin lights up his features. He's still high off his win, because he doesn't notice anything wrong with his surroundings until he opens his eyes.

And he's in his hideout.

And the tesseract is out and glowing.

And there's that one mind controlled soldier.

"Sir, we're ready to go."

Loki stares at him. For the longest time, he does that and nothing else. Even after the tesseract has been packed and loaded safely in the truck for transport, and Selvig and the driver are waiting in front of the vehicle for him to give the order to leave, he's still staring.

While he's staring, he is clenching one fist, so tight that his fingernails are digging into the skin of his hand and drawing blood. _Real_ blood that drips down his wrist from wounds that _sting._

"Aha…"

Loki's mouth falls open, a wave of something is crashing in his mind, clouding it. It's so debilitating that Loki cannot get it out in words.

"Ahaha…"

There is only one way possible now.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-"

* * *

He's still laughing while on the Chitauri flier, with fire and war going on all around him. Earlier on, he'd laughed right in Tony Stark's face, ending his impassioned speech before it began. Stark would eventually just take his armor and leave, apparently too disturbed by Loki's behavior to want to bother with him.

He never stops, and is even happy to catch Barton's arrow this time and let it throw him into the tower with the Hulk, who can't make him stop now matter how hard he smashes him.

When they invariably come for him, Loki has somewhat calmed down. He turns around and sees them waiting for him, weary and beaten down from battle, but no less unflappable. There are weapons at the ready, unfeeling eyes on him, anger mingled with pain from a certain someone. It's all just hilarious.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-"

He's in hysterics. Tears are streaming down his face and he's feeling more and more like his stomach is about to rip open. But here they are again and they have defeated him again and they are standing over him again and it's too damn much right now.

"He's still doing it," Stark mutters under his breath.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-"

Stark nudges at Barton. "Well, what are you waiting for, tie him up."

Barton, whose been slowly lowering his arrow, glances several times from Stark to Loki and clears his throat.

"You know, Tony, you've done so much today, and pretty much saved all our lives. I think it's only fair that you do the honors."

"Oh, that's sweet," Stark says, giving the still laughing Loki an uneasy look himself. "But you're the SHIELD agent. I'm just a civilian- albeit a rich, handsome, and eternally more badass than you civilian- you do it."

"No, no, I think you should do it."

"But I insist."

"So do I and I have authority over you."

"Since when?"

"I'm a SHIELD agent, you're a civilian."

"Okay, you can't do that."

"AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-"

They look to him again, going paler than before and more than ready to hightail it out of here. Stark calls out to the Hulk.

"Hey! Big Green! How about you do it? Come on, you know you want to."

The Hulk, proving once again his complete and total conscious control over himself, glances at Tony, takes one long look at Loki-

And turns and walks away.

"Oh, you've _got_ to be _kidding_ me!"

Tony prepares to rush after him, but a bright light and the sudden cut off of Loki's laughter stops him. He finds his comrades shocked and confused, staring at the empty spot Loki just occupied.

"Uh… where'd he go?"

* * *

Loki throws a burst of magic. In an instant, fifty trees are disintegrated, and the field he's dropped himself off in is bare of all but dirt and what burnt up bits of grass and wood survived his onslaught.

With a feral growl, Loki pulls a long rod out of the air and begins drawing the runes on the ground.

"No…" he hisses as he works. He completes the first portion faster than his mind can process and moves on to the second one. They are cruder than the carefully applied and calculated circles from before, but they will do.

"No. No. Nononononono-"

His thought process consists of nothing else. Nothing but today and yesterday. He knows the spell by heart, even though it's only been used one time.

One _successful_ time.

It was successful.

It had to have been.

"No. No. No. NO!"

He finishes his work with sweat pouring down his face. His body is warm and he's feeling faint, but he keeps moving. He makes up by magically removing his armor. He winds up in the center of the circle barefoot, clad only in breeches and a loose shirt. He all but yells out the spell, the strength of which eliminates even more of the forest and causes the ground to shake.

_'This time, it will work. This time…'_

* * *

_Day 11_

"Sir, we're ready to go."

The man goes flying headfast into a cement wall.

* * *

Tony enters his pristine and untouched tower to find Loki, God of Lies and Mischief and whatnot, sitting on his couch with an indeterminable number of empty and half full liquor bottles surrounding him. Most roll around at his feet. His foot collides with one and sends it flying into the wall and he kicks back and downs an entire bottle without pause. If it wasn't his most recent arch-enemy and he wasn't so weirded out right now, Tony would be impressed.

Loki looks at him through dulled, lazy eyes that are so unlike him that Tony doesn't know how to take it.

"This… Midgardian alcohol is so disappointing," he says bitterly, staring at the bottle in his hand. "I've had thirty so far, and it's had absolutely no effect."

He punctuates the last word by throwing the bottle over Tony's head. It shatters and rains glass down behind him. Pepper's going to have a fit when she sees that. Loki picks up and uncorks another bottle, which he also chugs down. Tony eyes the label.

"Ah, that one's a Chateau Latour. It's very rare-"

He has to stop and duck when Loki throws this bottle too, right at his head. Loki rubs his forehead and groans before standing.

"Alright," he says, grabbing Tony by the neck before he can stop him. Tony tries to pry it off, but he might as well be pushing at a brick wall. "Let's get this over with. 'You're trying to threaten me. The Avengers will stop me. Something about a headcount, you, Thor, Barton, Romanov, the rest. I will not succeed no matter what I do because if you can't save this realm, you'll _avenge_ it. Is that about right?"

He looks at Tony, who is just trying to figure out what the hell is happening right now and how much of his liquor Loki has actually consumed at this point. Loki shrugs his shoulders. It's weird, him making that gesture.

"I suppose so. Alright, out the window you go!"

He starts walking- dragging Tony to the window. He is right there and rearing back his arm to throw, and then he stops. Tony exhales with difficulty but isn't even close to relieved yet.

"Oh yes, I almost forgot." Loki returns to the bar, never loosening his grip until they're there and Tony must watch in shock and anger as Loki pulls out the bracelet he'd been discreetly trying to grab like he's known all along that it was there.

"Was it the right one?" Loki seems to be asking himself more than Tony, who can't answer anyway. Loki snatches his wrist and shoves the bracelet on. It pinches some of the nerves and makes Tony wince, but then they're going back to the window. From this close up, Loki looks all too pale and maybe even tired. _Wei-ird._

"Please aim straight for my head when you fly back up and shoot at me. It shouldn't do much, but there is a slight chance the blow may kill me."

Loki blasts out the window and hurls Tony over the edge.

* * *

_Day 12_

The next day finds Loki outside. The sun is high in the sky, and he hasn't done a thing since waking up besides leave the tunnels and walk the streets. He hasn't gone half a block when he decides that this entire city is utterly repulsive. When the noise level isn't making his ears scream, he is assaulted by a myriad of smells that would be bad enough on their own. Together, they make him want nothing more than to level the place. He only hasn't because that would just draw the Avengers to him and he is not in the mood for that today.

In his search for something that isn't a grey building, a peddler selling twisted bits of dough, or a yellow car honking at everything, he finds himself in the only wooded area to be found. He's not exactly happy to be here, because the exact place he is always brought to for his return trip to Asgard. He finds an empty bench and sits down. He has done nothing to mask himself beyond donning another Midgardian suit. Most of his focus is going to shielding his thoughts from the Other, whose presence he felt earlier in the day and successfully blocked. So far, there hasn't been another attempt, but he wasn't about to take chances. It also helps that he could glare away anyone foolish enough to look his way. Usually, it was women of varying ages who looked at him the way women on Asgard often looked at Thor. The one time something different happens, it's a tiny slip of a girl who can't be older than five. She has bright yellow pigtails, green eyes and freckles. She runs through crowrds of oblivious people, tears blurring her vision.

"Daddy! Daddy! Where are you?"

She stops to catch her breath in front of where he sits. Loki looks at the clouds to dissuade her from speaking to him. It doesn't work.

"Excuse me, Mister," she says, placing little hands on his pants leg. "Mister? Have you seen my Daddy? I can't find him anywhere."

Loki growls and jerks his knee away. The girl hiccups, then runs back the way she came, crying harder than ever and screaming for her father to come and help her. It's a great mercy when she's too far away to be heard any longer.

Loki no longer wants to sit here, but every time he thinks about getting up and leaving, something keeps his feet planted firmly in place. He's thought about going and trying the spell again, almost convinced himself a dozen times, but the weight of not one, but two failures always drops back down on him. What angers him most is himself, for sinking this low. He thinks about tomorrow, when he'll wake up again underground, and again to some worthless human telling him it's time to go and fight a losing battle again. There are many different ways he can take that. He can go along with the plan and invade the city and lose. He can eliminate key members of the opposition early enough to grant him a victory. He can take out SHIELD's helicarrier before the bomb can be launched so he can just get rid of Stark without problems. He can do nothing and sit in the middle of the very beings he wished to rule like he's doing right now.

He can do anything he likes. He can raze the entire planet to the ground. He just can't stop it all from being whole and unharmed again the next day.

He _can't_ stop this.

Loki groans, and brings his hands to his face to block out the sun. Somewhere in the distance, there are alarms going off, and people fighting and swearing at each other like they are about to start a fight. Loki's thinks he'll be sick if he's continually subjected to this wretched place.

Perhaps a change of scenery is in order.

* * *

**A/N: Good news everyone: Loki and Jane may meet next chapter! *celebrate***

**I say 'may' because that all depends on how long the next chapter winds up being. I mean, long chapters are kind of a thing for me these days (this one is over 13000 words), but I'd rather this not be a continuing trend. So, if the next chapter runs too long, I'll be cutting it into two and then they will meet the chapter after next. All that remains to be seen, of course.**

**But I'll tell you right now, their first meeting is going to be a doozy. *wink***

**Also, I'd like to take the time to announce that there will be several prequel oneshots written for this story. I can only tell you about one right now, since the other involves massive spoilers for later in the story. The first one will not be Lokane, sadly. It will actually be about Clint and Natasha, and will explain what Loki was talking about at the end of Day 8, assuming anyone didn't figure it out for themselves. All your questions will be answered when it's posted (in the Avengers section), so keep an eye out for it!**


	6. Days 15-17

**A/N: And now, the moment you've all been waiting for...**

* * *

_Day 15: Jane Foster_

It takes Jane three times to get it right.

After listening to Hilda's fun little flight of fancy in cycle 12, Jane excused herself back to her room, claiming a headache. She knew from experience that Jacobine would be sympathetic, and wasn't surprised when Hilda's protests are soundly shut down before they can get off the ground.

She waited in her room for an hour and a half, doodling constellations in her notebook when she wasn't watching the clock. She arrived to the docks at 9:20, just as a group of men overseen by the ferry's captain were carrying large, stamped boxes into the facility. She kept her distance at first, looking over the size and shape of the vessel. Living in New Mexico, she never had the time, nor the desire, to go out to the beach. The ferry that brought her to this island was the first boat she'd ever even set foot on. Beyond the front being called the bow and the back, the stern, Jane knew nothing about them. Not that that's going to stop her.

Once it felt safe, she moved closer, walking along like she was supposed to be there. One of the workers, a fairly good looking man with well muscled arms who seemed to be carrying all of the really big boxes himself, spotted her as she was slowing down to look at the large door on the side of the ferry. It had lowered to form a bridge over the foot or so of space between the ferry and the dock. Something of that size should be easy to sneak through, assuming nobody saw her.

"Morning, Ma'am, something you need?" the man asked pleasantly.

Jane smiled back. "No, just getting some fresh air. Sorry if I'm bothering you."

"Nah, it's fine. Better than fine, actually. You don't see a lot of pretty faces in my line of work."

Jane had laughed along with him and left shortly after. The man was polite enough in his obvious flirting, but Jane didn't care to hear more. That, and she'd never been very good at flirting back, even when she was a teenager. Sometimes, like right then, she'd remember the few times she'd made an attempt at confessing to a crush. Years had passed and they still made her cringe with embarrassment.

Jane carried on with her spying from afar, until the work was done and the door raised back up, as painstakingly slow as when it was lowered. Jane counted out twenty-one seconds, then went back inside and sneaked back to her room, where she would spend the rest of the day formulating her plan.

The very simple idea of just not doing this had been on her mind from the start. What good would it do her go gallivanting around some foreign country when she didn't know her way around and didn't speak the language? Why would she even think about it when she'd spent the last eight or nine cycles repeatedly telling herself that she couldn't act like the loop was a good thing? What would it even accomplish when she'd just be back in this same old bed in the morning anyway?

It had almost made her let the whole thing go and just go back to her room until the next cycle began, like she'd been doing every day.

Like she would be doing in the next cycle as well, and the cycle after that, and the cycle after that.

And that's where Jane threw aside that option and never considered it again.

In Cycle 13, she was caught right away. It was her fault for misjudging the amount of time it took for the door to close, and for being distracted. She had waited by the door, pressed up against the ships's wall as far as she could, with her stomach sucked in. Skinny as she was, she would take no risks, slight they may be. This in mind, she went over once again all the safety precautions she'd come up with. Keep to the corners, stay behind the taller boxes, be near the door when docking on the mainland so to run out at first notice. She repeated them a second time to be sure, a bit less focused thanks to that annoying grinding in her ear. It was fast becoming a nuisance by the time Jane realized the door was closing up. She made it inside when there was only enough space for her to squeeze through, and then it slammed shut with a bunch of her hair caught in between. Jane didn't realize at first and kept moving, nearly tearing off half her scalp in the process. Her screams drew the sailors' attention, and the next thing Jane knew, she was in Dr. Ahlberg's office. The ship's captain yelled at her in broken English while the doctor herself stood silent in the background. It ended with her confined to her room for the rest of the night, Dr. Ahlberg 'casually' mentioning that she might not be able to convince the Captain not to press charges and how badly that would reflect on their establishment if word got out. The irrationally angry and cynical side of her wondered if Dr. Ahlberg actively had something against her.

Hilda and Jacobine came by later that night. Though they weren't allowed in, they yelled to her through the door for a good ten minutes.

"Just what the hell were you thinking?!" Jacobine scolded her.

"I've been dreaming of doing this for months. I admire you so much right now, Jane," said Hilda.

Cycle 14 saw Jane learning from her mistakes. She went over the plan well before it was time to go. She waited for breakfast to formally end before taking off. Jacobine and Hilda had already said goodbye and went off to do their own work, so Jane had no need to explain herself to anyone. Thank the Lord.

Down at the docking grounds, she spotted the flirty worker from yesterday. He smiled and nodded at her as he passed, but she must've been early, because he didn't say a word. The giant boxes he had hefted over his shoulders may have been part of it. He smiled again when he came out empty handed, but again, no dialogue was exchanged.

The time came. Jane waited in the same spot, hair tied up in a bun, watching that door like a hawk and stepping aboard the instant it moved. She lost her balance walking in and almost fell. A pile of boxes kept her steady, and she crouched down in the corner behind it. It was covered in dirt and bugs and the closing of the door left the room in pitch darkness. Jane fished out her phone, and it provided her enough light that she could make do.

The trip was over an hour long. Jane spent it with her arms wrapped around her waist, reminding herself to bring a warmer coat next time. She heard male voices up ahead, most of them speaking Norwegian. There must've been more than one English speaker on board though, because she could clearly hear the voice shouting 'Land', overladen with another voice speaking the same word in Norwegian. The ferry hit a rough patch that almost knocked Jane over again, a feat considering she was seated. When it stopped completely, Jane cautiously rose. Nothing moved again, so she breathed a sigh of relief.

The door cracked open, and Jane took a moment to look out at the wide area of dock made from sturdy and damp wood, then she jumped out into the fresh, cool air and felt the wind blowing in her face. It was the exact same wind that blew on the island, but here, it felt so good. She saw a few houses lined up on the block, with cars driving all around in either direction. There was nothing very fancy about it, this wasn't New York or London or anything, but there was color and people and life everywhere she looked. Jane loved it immediately.

"Hey!" someone shouted. Jane was halfway up the dock by now, the smell of fish beginning to overwhelm her senses, and didn't realize the voice was directed at her until someone grabbed her arm.

"Excuse me-" she started to say as she turned around. She came face to face with the flirty worker, who didn't look so flirty anymore.

"Didn't I see you back at the Island?" he demanded.

Jane flinched under accusing eyes. As if that wasn't incriminating enough, she had to start talking too.

"Uh... no, I don't think so. I'm just taking a walk along the pier, thanks. If you'll please-"

"Oh no," the man said with a shake of his head. "I definitely saw you there. You're coming with me."

And then Jane was dragged back to the ship, the not-so-flirty man shouting in Norwegian, calling forth the Captain. He was as irritable and red-faced as ever, and Jane groaned out loud when he started shouting at her.

Cycle 15 begins like all the rest. With a 'Come On Elieen...' and a 'Time to get up, Ms. Foster...' and a 'Come on Jane, get moving...' Jane's taken to mouthing along with it at this point while she rolls over to face the wall with a pillow over her head.

She waits by the door for the third time. Her bulky winter coat impedes on her ability to stay hidden, but she remains undetected and gets on board without obstacle. Another sixty minutes of the waiting game ensues, one that has Jane grateful for her apparent immunity to seasickness, and then she hears the call of 'Land' once again.

She waits this time, quietly in the shadows, as the door opens. She pulls her furry hood over her head and pulls the strings tight. She waits for the flirty man to appear, and he does so out another exit, shouting back at the ship and laughing at something. Another couple of men follow him, and then Jane decides it's time to make her move. If she's caught, she'll just have to try again tomorrow.

She jumps out, and scrambles off to the side, trying not to make any noise and draw attention to herself. Nobody shouts right away, but she's not about to take chances. Lowering her hooded head, Jane pretends to be examining one of the smaller fishing boats while men walk by and never spare her so much as a glance. It feels safe to move when the ferry goes to dock, and then Jane runs. She slows down at the halfway point to a leisurely jog. A few people look at her then, likely just to ogle at the weirdo jogging in the cold air.

Jane walks up the street, past red, blue and orange painted square buildings, reading off the words on signs that make no sense to her, and she's on the curb when it hits her: she made it.

She's really made it.

Jane stands there for the longest time, letting this sink in. A hundred different possibilities are before her now. She's off the island, she's in town. It doesn't matter that someone has probably noticed she's gone by now, and that they'll be searching high and low and all over the place for her for hours until someone comes up with the idea that maybe she's run off on them. Then they'll be radio-ing the Captain to let him know, and he'll be screaming and cursing and berating his poor crew for letting something like this happen.

Come tomorrow, it'll all be gone.

There's something terrifying about the notion. Terrifying and empowering. Now that Jane is out in the open, it all seems limitless. She can goes where she likes, eat what she likes, do what she likes, and at that'll happen is she'll wake up in bed the next morning, everything back to normal everyone else none the wiser.

Of course, the many _horrible_ implications are not lost on her, but Jane doesn't dwell. There is no way she'd ever do those things. This whole thing was scary for sure, and Jane would be lying if she said she was the sweetest, most loving person who ever lived with no pent up anger over anything, but she has morals. The whole point of coming out here was to clear her head of the cobwebs.

Jane crosses the street at the light. People are chatting around her and she pays them no mind, except to note the steaming cups they drink from and the sign above them sports a faded painting of a white coffee cup. With the little bit of money she has on her, Jane buys herself the best cup of coffee she's ever had in her life. In retrospect, it was pretty mediocre in retrospect, but after the equivalent of three weeks living off of the watery instant brand they gave out on the island, this was practically gourmet. She drinks deeply, letting it warm her up, and looks out at the ocean water, which is suddenly beautiful to her. This must be the first time she's ever really stopped and thought about it, but she likes the ocean. It's a real change of pace from the deserts of New Mexico. How much time would it take to get to New Mexico from here, anyway?

Something in the back of her mind answers that question with another flat reminder that she should _not_ be trying to take advantage of this. This is _bad._ This is _illogical_. This is an impossible situation, and she needs to find a way _out_ of it. She'll have plenty of time to get back home when it's over and she _won't_ be jettisoned back to the morning of May 4th at a moment's notice. That might have worked this morning, but now that Jane is here, alone in the open and feeling freer than ever before, all she can think is that it doesn't matter if she takes one day to herself.

She'll still have tomorrow.

* * *

_Loki Laufeyson_

Norway is not his first destination. It takes him four repeats to get that far.

He spends the rest of the 12th day scouring the city, going block by block, looking for one place with no noise, no people, and no debris littering the ground for rodents to chew upon.

He finds nothing.

Day 13 dawns with that same blank faced soldier. Loki thinks about asking the man for his name so he'll have something to associate the man with, but then he decides he doesn't give a damn and leaves for the surface without a word. After fending off the obligatory invasion attempt by that impetuous Other, Loki enters the fray of the city, this time with an actual destination in mind.

He goes to another part of the city, one quite different from the hovel that is Manhattan. There is still dirt everywhere, but at least the noise level is down and there is space to walk in. He learns the place is called 'Queens,' which is rather ill-fitting. Even a Midgardian royal should have the dignity to never set foot in such a place. He destination is a flat, two story white building, which is one of the nicer ones to be found, though it is still very dull to look at. Loki walks up to the door, which is currently wide open. A sign is tacked up to the wall beside it, listing 'Visiting Hours.' Now appears to be one of them.

Loki walks around family gatherings. This place is a home for the elderly and the invalid, and many of them are entertaining children and grandchildren today. Most of those in the latter category look like they'd rather be anywhere else. Loki thinks how amusing it would be if he revealed himself, if only long enough to give everyone a good scare and the children something fun to talk about. It would probably be the death of their elders, though. Most of these people look even older than that foolish old man who'd tried to stand up to him in Stuttgart.

One look around tells him that his target isn't here, not that he expected her to be. All her information was his to see thanks to the careful documenting SHEILD does on all it's former operatives. Peggy Carter is a founding member no less! Loki knows that she spent the next few years after Steve Rogers' supposed death fighting the war, only to return to her mother country when it was over and continue her work for the military there. She would eventually retire and marry, bearing no children but gaining a number of nieces and nephews. One of them even followed in her footsteps and joined SHEILD. Sharon Carter, he believes.

As for Peggy herself, she and her husband would move back to America later in their lives. He had been dead for twenty years, and she had checked herself into this facility five years ago, on recommendation from her doctors. She had several illnesses associated with old age, but mostly she was just growing tired. Loki couldn't say he blamed her. She lived a warrior's life and now her time was drawing near.

He finds her alone in her room, sitting in a deep red armchair, her back to him. He goes to stand in front of her, her eyes moving through him, focused on the large television in the corner. There is a closed book resting in her lap, held by a bony hand with raised purple veins and fingers that are never still. Loki doesn't need to look at the screen to know that he himself and Steve Rogers are on it. They've been replaying that fight since the night it happened. The time Loki spent in 'captivity' told him that. A few tears fall down Peggy Carter's face. Watching the man she probably never stopped loving fail to defeat him must be heart wrenching. Loki smirks, though he's not really feeling the satisfaction he'd like to.

He leaves shortly after that and spends the rest of the day wandering Queens. It was all getting far too boring.

So boring, in fact, that Loki doesn't even bother with Banner's women the next day. He doesn't want to be anywhere near New York either, so he goes to the farthest place he can think of, which ends up being a city called Los Angeles. He finds Tony Stark's home overlooking a beach. It's as audacious and self-indulgent as the man himself. Loki would destroy it if it wasn't completely pointless. The most he could get was Stark finding out about it before the day was up and losing his mind over it. Normally, this would be good for a passing amusement, but after everything, he can't even find it in him.

He's just feeling very frustrated in general this time around. The last time he felt like this, he beat Banner to a pulp and broke every bone in the man's weak human body. Sensing a possible repeat, Loki takes to the streets. This time, he goes without invisibility. This place is loud and dirty like Manhattan, but different enough that he isn't bothered. He just wishes he had some way to release all the tension rising up within him Maybe he should have gone to the fight today, if only for that single purpose.

Like it's a wish come true, a dark shadow appears before him. Loki is unconcerned by it. There is no magic or power of any sort coming off the man. He's just another weak Midgardian not worth Loki's time, albeit one whose choice in clothing and general demeanor is attempting (and failing) to prove otherwise.

"Hey man," he calls out. In his mouth is a lit cigarette, which muffles his speech a bit. "How's it going?"

Loki ignores him and walks past. The man isn't going to take that, though. He steps in Loki's path to stop him. More accurately, Loki chooses to stop walking so to accommodate him.

"Woah, not so fast there, Pretty Boy," the man says. Two of his similarly greasy and undesirable friends step out from the darkness to surround him. Loki wonders what took them so long. He had felt their presence long ago. Now it's just getting boring again.

"I don't know what you gentlemen are after," he says politely. "But you will find I have nothing on me of great interest, so I suggest you go and be a nuisance elsewhere."

The men burst out laughing, like the brain dead idiots they clearly are.

"Oh brother, listen to this Limey," the man in the middle says, before adopting a loud and greatly exaggerated, not to mention grossly incorrect, impression of Loki's speech. "Oh bloody 'ell I seem to 'ave lost my tea and crumpits. Cheerio govna'. Care for a fag and a ride on the trolley?"

His friends convulse with side splitting laughter, meaning they are either faking it for their friend's sake or even bigger fools than Loki thought. He gets the feeling he knows which it is. Valhalla above, he'd take the Warriors Three over this.

There comes a swishing sound like a blade, and then one shines before Loki's eyes, waved by the man in the middle.

"Yeah real funny," the man says, going 'serious' now. "And now that we've had a good laugh, how about you hand over all you money,_Mate_?"

Loki eyes the blade, small and thinner than it has any right to be. It's nothing like his daggers, which while small, can carve through stone if he wants them to. This whole situation is getting more annoying the longer it goes on, but at least now he has something to do.

"Is that a threat?"

The man pulls out his cigarette and blows a puff of smoke in Loki's face, then drops it. His friends snicker some more.

Well, haven't _they_ all just made a big mistake?

The man's next threat dies in his throat as magic pulses in the air. His fingers curl around the space where the knife was mere seconds ago. It must be cold, because he's starting to shiver. Loki feels the weight of the weapon and scoffs disgustedly. To call it amateurishly forged would make a mockery of amateurs everywhere.

"As I thought. You three wouldn't last a fraction of a second in a _real_ battle."

He snaps the metal between his fingers, the pieces falling uselessly to the ground. The three men look ready to void themselves. Loki gives a wicked grin.

It's lucky he put a silencing spell around the entire block beforehand. Otherwise the screams would've had the Midgardians running. When it's over, Loki walks away feeling much, _much_ better.

On day 15, he decides he'd like to know what his enemies get up to when he's not around. It proves decidedly less fun than he would have hoped. Fury becomes, for lack of a better term, furious with each passing hour that his top notch agents fail to track him down. He is almost literally red in the face and there are so many veins popping out of his head, Loki thinks he might burst. It's a far cry from the emotional, yet professionally detached way he spoke with Stark and Rogers about their precious Agent Coulson's 'death' at his hands and all the values he believed in that they must now represent. It's all so terribly nauseating.

It's also pack of lies, as Loki later finds out. He finds the helecarrier's secret basement infirmary that only a select few agents know about. It's where Coulson's primary doctor is going over his chart with a couple of nurses and proclaiming that he'll be fully recovered in just a few months, and where Coulson himself is having his bandages changed and his dinner fed to him through a straw. How will Stark and Rogers take _that_, he wonders. He must commend Fury for his impeccable acting. The man almost had him fooled for a second there.

Once they're gone, it isn't long before word gets out that the big attack they were all dreading and preparing for doesn't look like it's going to happen. Stark finds not a trace of the tesseract at his tower. Like always, Loki has ordered it stored away and Selvig will likely be tinkering with it by now. Hours tick by and nothing changes. The others all meet up with Stark at his tower and try to come with some kind of explanation. Loki stands, unnoticed, in the corner of the room, watching the six of them drink from Tony's bar and trade ideas as to where Loki could be. Stark mostly makes jokes, which greatly irritates everyone until Barton snaps at him and the two almost come to trade blows before Rogers separates them. Banner and Romanov try to make everyone focus, while Thor is the quietest. He sits on the couch with a glass of something that will have no effect on him anyway, which must be why he hasn't touched it. His head is down, shading his features. Loki can still read him. He's as depressed as he is after a hunting trip gone wrong or a botched attack plan that's caused them to lose a battle with a great foe. When they were children, the only thing that could cheer him up was Loki challenging him to a duel, which Thor would usually win. That always boosted him right back up. Loki looks away before the taste in his mouth that the memory brings gets any more foul.

Stark gets up at one point to make a call and is gone for close to an hour. Loki sends a double after him and calls it back five minutes later, once it becomes clear that Stark is only speaking to his lover. When he comes back, Stark offers the five of them guest rooms to spend the night in. Rogers accepts on their behalf and dismisses them for the night. They will reconvene in the morning and discuss their next move. Now, when did he become the leader?

Loki doesn't return to his compound, but goes up to the roof and sits at the edge for hours, looking out at the artificial lights that draw away from the stars. Down below, it's as noisy as ever, and it barely lets up as the hours drag on. Stark wasn't exaggerating about that 'city that never sleeps' thing.

Next time around, he'll have to find someplace quieter.

* * *

_Jane Foster_

While the lights all go out, Jane lays herself out on a park bench, staring at the sky. It's freezing cold out, but the furry winter jacket she's just bought for three months worth of her salary, along with the one she already has keeps her plenty. She'd almost stopped herself from buying it because of the price. She'd have to be a complete idiot to spend that much on a coat. How would she feel when she didn't have enough to pay her bills at the end of the month...

Oh, right.

Her old coat is draped over her legs, which she has to be careful about moving around since any sudden movement could knock it to the ground, and then she'd have to get up to get it and reapply it. She doesn't even want to move right now.

Watching the stars has always had a very calming effect on her, and not just because of her career. She used to stay up late every night as a child, looking for constellations she learned about in school. Sometimes, her mother would come to wake her up for breakfast and find her curled up next to the window, all the way across the room from her bed. Even after she grew out of that, she still took time to look up at them every night. That was why she chose to set up her laboratory in Puente Antiguo. It had the best view of the night sky she'd ever seen.

This one was just as good, and she'd probably enjoy it a lot more if she were in better spirits. She's torn between sneaking out again tomorrow or not. She'd like to believe that getting it right today meant that she had learned all she needed to, and that she wouldn't make any more mistakes and get caught, but how sure was she really. This could have been a fluke for all she knows, a stroke of luck.

_'There's only one way to find out,'_ says the voice of optimism in her mind.

She gives up there. No use arguing with that.

For the rest of the night, she sips a cup of hot chocolate and goes over the plan step by step until she can recite it by heart. What time isn't spent with that is dedicated to letting her mind wander. She thinks about Darcy, and how it might be a good idea to call her and see how she's doing. She had refrained from doing so before, once she realized the potential danger it could put them both in, but there was nothing stopping her now. She would also have to try and locate Erik's number. It had been a year since SHIELD carted him away and apparently changed his cell number too. Calling it just got her a 'this number has been disconnected' message. What were these guys, the CIA?

A handsome, blue eyed face crosses her mind and makes her jump. Where did he come from all of a sudden?

Come to think about it, Jane hasn't thought about Thor at all in the last few 'days'. Which is weird, because he used to come to her at least once a day before all this started. Or maybe it wasn't so weird, since back then, she'd been so busy working on creating a functioning Einstien-Rosen Bridge for the sole purpose of finding him and his homeworld that it was just inevitable. Now, it just wasn't as important to her anymore. And by relation, upsetting as it was, _he_ wasn't as important to her anymore.

It might have something to do with the fact that he's alive and seems to have been able to return whenever he wanted, but didn't. All that does is make her think of all the stories she used to read about Gods coming down to earth and taking mortals as lovers, only to throw them aside when someone or something more interesting comes around and forget they ever existed.

And all _that_ does is make Jane's head hurt because once again, she's doing that thing Darcy used to bug her about where she's thinking too much about too many different things while she's sleep deprived and she'd better just shut the hell up and go to sleep now Jane or so help me I will take away your coffee privileges for a week-

* * *

_Day 16_

'_**Come on Eileen, oh I swear**_

_**At this moment, you mean everything!'**_

'_**With you in that dress, oh my thoughts I confess**_

_**Verge on dirty**_

_**Ah come on Eileen.'**_

"Time to get up, Ms. Foster, there's work to be done. Do not make us wait for you."

"Come on, Jane, get moving! If you don't hurry, you'll miss breakfast. And I swear, Hilda better not have taken all the coffee again, or I'm going to take that precious headband of hers and make her eat it!"

Jane rolls over in bed, pulling an extra pillow over her head and slamming it down a couple of times. She uses it to muffle her groans, then punches it a couple more times.

"God, I need a drink..."

* * *

_Loki Laufeyson_

"Sir, we're ready to go."

"Oh, shut up."

Down in the tunnels, he doesn't stop to sit because then he might not want to get back up until tomorrow. He's had it up to here with burrowing underground, and if he's to be trapped in this repetition he's not going to spend it here. Granted, he hasn't the desire to go back to any of the places he's spent it so far, but compared to here, a place all the magic in the nine realms couldn't make clean and presentable, they were a step below Valhalla.

He feels less like pacing than he does sitting, so he just stands in place. The indecisiveness alone is going to get to him soon. He needs to get out and go somewhere. _Anywhere._ The only other option is to go ahead with the invasion and lose again. Yes, being carried back to Asgard a war criminal is bound to do wonders for him. It's been so cleansing thus far, hasn't it?

They would be en route by now. As the first one to arrive, Stark would probably be only another hour or so. Not enough time to get everything in place, even if he wanted to. It would be another trying day for them, as would tomorrow, and the next day, and every other day unless Loki gains some new motivation or finds a way out of this. It must be awful, he thinks, living the same day, doing all the same things, saying and hearing the same words over and over again for eternity. The only saving grace is that they don't have any idea it's happening. Loki would love to tell them, see the looks of horror on their faces when he proves it to them. They are just as much imprisoned as he is. No, that's wrong, they are even worse off. At least he's aware. He can influence things. He could destroy them all again and again in so many different ways and there's nothing they could do to stop him. Days ago, the prospect might have excited him. Now, he just gives it a side nod of acknowledgement and goes back to wondering what he's going to do today. He ignores the little 'Other-like' voice in his head that hisses he is losing his drive.

It comes to him like a brick to the temple that he _had_ come up with something a long time ago. The night in which he seemingly won the day, he had gone to sleep with a certain woman in mind. She was a tiny thing, one he had never seen face to face and yet knew every inch of. Some might call her attractive, and on an objective level, Loki could accede to that. It was her actions that had marred her in his eyes. If it wasn't for her, Thor would never have returned as he had. He would have just died when he was supposed to and left Loki to eliminate Jotunhiem. He would still be a King, far far away from this realm, and hers would have been little more to him than a speck in the grand scheme of things. Perhaps it was reaching to call her completely at fault, but she had factored in, whether she realized it or not.

SHIELD had done as poor a job of concealing her location as they had everyone else. The fact that their hiding place for her was the home country of those who worshiped Asgardians as deities in the first place is just wonderful.

Loki appears in a park behind a group of trees planted close together. He is already invisible anyway. He could have popped into the middle of a crowded street, and no one would even look up. His target is nearby, barely a mile away. Loki would have just gone straight to her, but he needs a few minutes of peace, and this little seaside village is the quietest place he's found so far. He crosses through the park. Couples walk hand in hand and small children climb trees and play in the sand. One little blonde headed girl catches Loki's attention. He dimly recalls the lost girl in the park who had approached him. She'd be looking for her father by now. Does she ever find him? Or does she freeze every night under a bridge, scared and alone?

Loki leaves the park and enters the street. He sends out a couple of doubles to find her. It's a tiny town with a sparse population, mostly used for fishing purposes. Within five minutes, he has her. She's in a pub off the coastline. It's mostly empty and she's the only woman in the vicinity. She's practically gift wrapped for him. What is SHIELD thinking, letting her wander around like this? He could snatch her up the moment it catches his fancy.

He makes his way to the pub. It's a dingy place a short ways away. He makes himself seen first, donning a more casual midgardian outfit than usual. What with the plain clothes most everyone wore, a suit would have been out of place, much as he preferred them. Instead, he's in a black shirt with matching pants and a dark green winter jacket. The furry inside itches, but at least he won't attract attention. He makes it to the pub without incident, pushes open the door and walks inside. It's a little more crowded than he thought, and unfortunately, also very very _loud_. A few gentlemen seated by the entrance glance up at him over their drinks, only to go back to what they were doing a moment later. Other than that, no one looks up. These same people whose ancestors used to call him 'God'.

But that's of no concern to him, because he can see her. She is up at the front of the bar, her hair a tangled mess held back in a shoddy bun. Little strands stick out everywhere, as Loki sees when he gets closer. Had she even bothered to brush it this morning? Her clothes aren't in much better shape. There were dirt stains and damp spots all over the bottom of her shirt and the seat of her pants. She leans over the bar, running her finger over the rim of a glass of beer while she speaks to the half interested bartender in low tones.

Loki pauses to listen in, but as soon as the word 'Thor' passes her lips, he stops caring. Stupid girl _would _be hung up on him. He'd have to tell her all about Thor and his womanizing ways and how the odds of him coming to save her from him or anything else that might attack her were practically nil. The look of pain and horror on her face would be so very sweet.

Loki closes the distance between them. She hasn't heard him approach. How very surprised she's about to be. Loki puts a gentle hand on her shoulder and Jane Foster turns. Their eyes meet.

"Good afternoon."

* * *

"So I decided this morning that I should definitely come back into town, because I'm still feeling really stressed and I needed something to drink. Not that it's helping me..."

Jane pauses to breathe. The bartender doesn't look up from cleaning a glass, but then he hasn't looked at her once since handing her a beer. If she hadn't chosen to seat right next to the sink, she doubts he would even be here.

"Really? That something else," he says. His English is broken, but passable, and also a blessing in disguise because if he understood all of her story instead of just half, he'd probably have had her carted away in a white van by now.

"All I don't get," he goes on, putting down the clean glass and picking up a new one. "Is why you don't have drink then? It just sit there while you talk."

Jane grabs it and takes a swig just to spite him. The liquid burns her mouth, more than a beer should, and she puts it right back down. The bartender doesn't see her do it, but he must hear the clinking of the glass because he snorts.

"Forgive me if I'm not drowning my sorrows like a normal person," Jane says snippily. "But I'm not exactly in a normal situation, you know."

"Yes yes," the bartender answers, his smile humorous.

"I mean, putting aside the whole crazy repeating day thing, where would I even be right now if hadn't happened. Today is the 16th repeat, so it's been over two weeks since it all started= since the first big attack I mean- and I know there would have been a lot of rebuilding to get done and funerals to be held and all sorts of stuff like that that's way more important than my stupid crappy love life."

She goes to take another drink and then stops herself midway.

"I'd just like to hear from him, you know? Just once. Even if it's just five minutes over the phone, assuming he's learned how to use one by then. He's a smart guy, I bet he'd pick it up fast. That's all I want, is that so much to ask?"

"Yes yes," the bartender says again. At this point, Jane doesn't even care anymore that he's not listening.

"For over a year, it was all about bringing him back. I mean, that's what I was getting all that money to do. Thor was SHIELD's major concern. If it wasn't for him, I'd still be alone in New Mexico with homemade equipment and driving my house around after thunderstorms."

She slumps over miserably.

"And now I find out that all my work and all my recent breakthroughs and _everything_ may have all been for nothing. He's here and I didn't even know it until I saw it on the news. I mean- am I being unreasonable? Because he's trying to stop his brother and that's got to be a huge distraction. And it's not like we had some passionate love affair, we only kissed once! I just thought we had something there, you know? Does he even know where I am right now? Like, is he planning to come see me when it's all over? Because they always win the fight, they always win. So there should be nothing stopping him. Assuming tomorrow ever actually comes, he should come see me. I should at least get that phone call I was telling you about!"

"Mm-hm..." the bartender says.

"But I have this awful feeling that I'm not going to get even that. He's just going to leave once again, probably thinking I'm completely oblivious to him being here in the first place." She forces herself to take another sip. A small one. "And then I think 'Wow, really Jane? You're stuck reliving the same day over and over again and all you can think about is your whirlwind almost romance with Thor?' But you know, I wasn't thinking about it, for a long time. I've lived this day sixteen times now. I know, I've counted."

"Ah, good work ethic," the bartender grins at her.

"I only just remembered him last night, while I was half asleep on a park bench. Now, it's all I can think about, and _I don't need this_. I _really_ don't need this. I need to focus on what's important, I just... I need to do something. I need to get it all off my shoulders. All the worries and all the insecurities... I just need to do one crazy thing that I would never normally do so that it's all gone and I can focus. I mean, is that unreasonable too? No, you know what? Don't answer that. I am stuck in a time loop, I'm all alone in this, and I'm only human. I think I deserve to be a little unreasonable!"

"Absolutely!" the bartender exclaims right back. It's the most alive thing he's said to her all night, and yet she still feels like she's being babied. It's a damn good thing for this guy that she never lets it get to her.

"So what would you do, if you were me?" she asks him, sitting back down.

The bartender pretends to think and shrugs his shoulders. "If I were you... I think I find someone nice and ah... make a little love, as you say. Best stress relief there is."

It was meant as a joke, and it wasn't particularly funny to Jane, but she smiles anyway.

"Oh yeah, with who? You?"

The bartender, a balding man of perhaps fifty with crows feet and a noticeable paunch, laughs heartily.

"Would love to, but ah..." he raises his left hand and fingers a gold band. "Happy as is. Don't worry dear, you are very lovely. You find someone easy. Just be careful. Some will say anything to get in good with you."

"You don't need to tell me that," Jane snorts. She had rarely gone out drinking with her friend in college precisely for that reason. And also because her and hard alcohol had never really seen eye to eye. "I have this one friend back at the observatory. She would have told me to do the same thing."

"Smart girl," says the bartender.

Jane rolls her eyes and begins running her finger along the rim of her glass to give it something to do. "Yeah, only she'd specify that I should sleep with his _brother_, which is never gonna happen."

Somewhere behind her, the front door opens with a creak. It's happened several times now, so Jane doesn't look back, even when the newcomer approaches.

"But I might as well, right? Sleep with a random guy, I mean," she pauses to laugh. "Picture Thor coming back only to find me in bed with someone else. You know, assuming he gives a fuck. 'Oh, I'm sorry Thor. I just needed someone more reliable and this bar guy seemed like a good bet. I've even known him longer than you. _Four_ full days! You understand, right?"

She continues to snicker to herself, all the way through the dark shadow creeping up behind her that causes the bartender to move away. She has no time to ask where he's going, because a hand comes to rest on her shoulder, and instinctively, she turns.

Bright blue eyes overtake her vision, and a smooth voice speaks.

"Good afternoon."

Jane blinks up at him, the keyword in that statement being 'up'. Whoever this guy is, he is ridiculously tall, even with her just sitting. It's not uncommon for Jane, being as short as she is, but this guy seems to exude an air that he's bigger than you'll ever be. He is dressed almost all in black except for his unzipped green coat. He's skinny too, doesn't look like he has much muscle on him, but she could be wrong. His clothes don't tell very much. His hair is black and shoulder length, kept away from his face by some kind of gel product. His aristocratic features make him look woefully out of place in this little sailor's bar. Not that she exactly blends in either. As he smiles down at her, possibly trying to look intimidating, but if so, having picked the wrong girl entirely, Jane can't help but notice something very familiar about him. It comes to her right away who he reminds her of, which is either very unfortunate or very fortunate for him.

"Hello sir," she says evenly. "You wouldn't happen to be Thor's brother, Loki, would you?"

A ghost of a frown flashes across the man's face. Whatever he expected her to say, that wasn't it, but Jane can't be bothered to concern herself. She'd just like an answer, thanks.

"And what if I am?" he asks.

Jane's eyebrows go straight up. "So, you are?"

The man considers that for a moment, then gives a coy smile.

Aha, okay then.

The bartender was right after all: some guys will say _anything._

Well, granted, she did most of the talking, but it wasn't her fault if this guy decided to run with it.

Jane sends a meaningful glance at the bartender, who eyes her and her companion and smirks knowingly. He points to the dimly lit hallway with doors lining either side. He mouths 'first on the left,' and Jane answers with a nod. She gets up, leaving her barely touched drink for the bartender to deal with and fists the man's shirt, pulling at him.

"Let's go," she says.

He stays in place, and he's a lot more solid than she thought. She can't move him an inch.

"What are you doing?" he asks, sounding genuinely confused, which throws Jane for a loop.

"You know what I'm doing," she says, tugging harder. "Would you just come on and let's get this over with?"

Eventually, he must take pity on her and her sad attempts to move him (she _knew_ she shouldn't have opted out of phys-ed in college) and starts walking. Jane leads him to the designated door. It is unlocked, and Jane pushes it open. The room inside is nearly bare, except for a moth eaten couch in one corner, and an old four poster bed in another. Next to it is a nightstand with an oil lamp doing it's very best to provide light. It's enough that Jane can examine the doorknob, and find a lock on the inside, but not on the outside. Excellent.

The man walks in behind her, looking over the room with obvious distaste. Jane shuts and bolts the door, stopping only to take a breath and calm her rapidly beating heart. Her voice of reason won't stop screaming at her what a bad idea this is. She silences it, but thinks maybe she should have waited a little longer to do something this stupid, until she was jaded enough that the damn thing wouldn't bother her anymore.

Oh well. No turning back now.

Jane faces the man, who looks questioningly down at her. God, he is too tall. He's not doing anything yet either, just looking at her with that same little smile on his face, baring down like he's about to eat her.

"Well, I can't say I expected this," he says. "I know fear can drive one to do foolish things, but locking yourself in a room with me seems-"

Jane grabs him and pulls him down to her level, smashing her lips against his. The man goes completely still. With her eyes open, she can see his on her, looking wild and shocked and unnaturally blue. Were those color contacts or something? Nobody should have eyes that shade, it's creepy. With a muffled cry, he jerks away. Jane cries out in annoyance.

"Woman, are you mad?"

"I should be asking you the same question," Jane shoots back. "Why did you bother coming over to talk to me if not for this?"

She doesn't wait for an answer, which is a good thing, because he doesn't look like he has one. She jumps and he catches her instinctively. Her lips brush his, more gently this time, sending a bolt of something straight through Jane from her head to her toes. He must feel it too, because he shudders against her and doesn't pull away this time. He doesn't do anything else either, so Jane begins losing her patience. She pushes his heavy coat aside, running her fingers up his stomach and chest and- _whoa_, was she ever wrong about him being skinny.

He remains motionless, causing Jane to pull away. She thinks for one horrible second that she's made a mistake, gone too far, misread his intentions entirely. Maybe he was just trying to ask her for the freaking time and now she's forcing herself on him. Why didn't he push her off already? Even if he hadn't apparently been forged out of steel, she wasn't exactly Xena. Jane moves away. He is staring deep into her eyes, not with fear or shock or revulsion or anything of the sort. Just with thoughtfulness, like she's some complex problem he's trying to solve. He never tries to leave, even though she has no way of blocking him. What the hell does he want?

"Look, I'm not drunk," Jane says. "I barely had two sips of a light beer and I'm not going to back out at the last minute, if that's what you're worried about. Okay?"

He studies her a moment longer.

"I just... can't imagine why you'd want this. With _me_."

With him? What was that supposed to mean? Geez, for a guy trying to get laid, he sure has self-esteem issues. Why? She doesn't know. He's a handsome guy after all.

"I do want this," she says. "As long as you want this, I want this. Because I don't care anymore, alright, _Loki_?"

She steps into his arms, and reaches up to meet his lips again. Before she closes her eyes, she sees his darken. He pulls her the rest of the way up. His lips are tender on hers, but they get harder by the second. His arms around her are insanely strong. Jane can barely move except to get closer to him, which is fine by her.

The next few hours are like a blur. Jane barely knows what's happening from the moment it starts to the moment it ends. They wind up on the bed at some point. His hands trail along her naked, heated body, so he must get her clothes off somehow. She doesn't recall taking them off herself. She doesn't recall taking his clothes off either, but she roams his naked body as he does hers and she runs her hands along lean but powerful muscles and licks a line along his neck while he's nibbling on hers. She can't even think straight anymore about anything. Her whole world for the moment is nothing but his hands and his tongue and his body pressing down on hers, and then at some point, he's inside of her, thrusting in and out, in and out, in and out. His pace is slow and torturous at first, but then he picks it up and he gets her to scream for him. They don't have any condoms, but STDs and pregnancy are the last thing Jane is worried about. They go more than once, at least three times, possibly more. Jane's lost count.

When it's over, she rests in his arms, breathing heavily while listening to his heartbeat. She tries to count the number of beats to give herself some form of coherency, but it's failing fast. Even now, all she can think about are his _hands_ and his _tongue_ and his _body_ and how that was without a doubt the most amazing sex she's ever had in her life. Not that this is saying much, since she's only been with two guys before and the last one was back in Grad school, but she has vivid memories of both experiences. They don't hold a candle to this.

She dimly remembers a moment when Thor was around, the night he carried a drunken Erik home to her trailer following an ill-conceived drinking contest. In his inebriated state, Erik had slurred:

"You know, I don't believe you're Thor, but you should be."

Jane nestles further into the man's chest, breathing in his scent and not for a second believing this is really Loki. But just like Thor, he really should be.

* * *

_Loki Laufeyson_

By the time Jane Foster's nodded off, Loki has regained all his energy and could get up and walk out whenever he wants. Or he could wait an hour or so until she's rested, rouse her and go for another round. His indecision over the matter has him just laying there motionless, listening to her snore. He's been doing a lot of that recently. Getting into impossible situations with no idea how to get out. He really isn't enjoying it.

But Jane Foster should feel honored, assuming she was actually to remember this tomorrow. Never in his long and illustrious lifetime has anyone ever left him so completely speechless. Not even the All-Father himself. He hasn't the faintest idea how Jane Foster has lived in the year since Thor left. She's either terribly wanting or an utter fool. He can think of no reason other than misplaced anger at Thor that would lead her to lay with him. Oh, she was not the first woman to throw herself at him, quite the contrary. It's just that on Asgard, no woman who was ever once Thor's would try it. They knew better.

What little Loki knows of Jane Foster tells him this is not her normal behavior. When he approached her in the pub, he expected shock mingled with confusion. It goes without saying he got neither of those. What he got instead... he doesn't know how to take this.

He eventually stops trying and lets himself rest. He feels something wet issue from Jane Foster's mouth and land on his skin and then he's out.

* * *

_Day 17: Jane Foster_

After falling asleep wrapped in a man's arms in a dingy cot with musty sheets, waking up in alone between much warmer, cleaner ones is a little jarring, even if Jane expected it. Waking up to the usual sequence of events is nothing. She makes an excuse for Jacobine anyway. She's going to need all day to think this one through.

That doesn't mean she doesn't want to talk to anyone, it's just that she has to wait until mid afternoon for the person she wants to talk to to wake up. It'll be morning for her when Jane picks up the phone, but she is undeterred. Being an early riser was the one good thing Jane could count on Darcy Lewis to be.

The phone rings six times before someone answers. Jane hears something crunching first.

"Good morning," Darcy's cheerful voice says. "You've reached Darcy Lewis! I am not available right now, as you've called me right in the middle of my nutritious breakfast of Peanut Butter Crunch and soon to be spoiled milk. Please try your call again later-"

"Hang up that phone and you can kiss those six credits goodbye," Jane says quickly.

Darcy bursts out laughing on the other end. "I'm just messing with you, Dude. I knew it was you."

Jane pulls the phone away and rolls her eyes, even though there's no way Darcy can hear her doing that.

_'You haven't changed a bit,'_ Jane thinks.

"So, what's up? Why the sudden break in radio silence?"

Jane thinks for a moment. She thought she knew before making the call what she was going to say. Now, she's drawing a blank.

"I... just needed to hear a familiar voice."

"Getting cabin fever already, huh?" Darcy says.

"_No._ Why does everyone think that..."

The last part was said softly, but Jane thinks Darcy probably heard it anyway.

"Well, I know you wouldn't call for no reason, so come on, what's up?"

Jane waits a beat, during which time she decides that as long as she's talking to Darcy, there is nothing she can do but get straight to the point.

"Okay. Basically, I sneaked of the Island yesterday on the ferry that delivers supplies once a week. Then I went drinking at a pub where I met this guy, who I proceeded to have sex with several times in one of the back rooms."

"Was he hot?"

"Are you serious? After everything I just told you, _that_ is your biggest concern."

"Well Jane, it's extremely important," Darcy says seriously.

Jane takes the phone away again, this time to run her hand over her face before she answers.

"He was... attractive, yes."

"And was he good?"

"I enjoyed myself."

Darcy sputters slightly. "I'm confused, are we still talking about your one night stand or some opera you saw afterwards?"

"Just because I don't use slang and dirty language to describe it doesn't mean it wasn't good," Jane says.

She hears chewing on the other end.

"Yeah, but Jane, you once made out with a friggin Thunder God. Your standards should be ridiculously high, way too high to sleep with some random bar dick unless he's a male model or something."

_'Oh, he could have been,'_ her traitorous mind says as it pulls up images of her hands running along his body. Jane's cheeks start to heat up involuntarily. Meanwhile, Darcy is still going on about all the qualities of any non-Thor person she should be going for. Something about chiseled abs and a piercing gaze and other trashy romance novel terms that Jane didn't think Darcy knew.

"Look, I only _kissed_ Thor, Darcy," Jane loudly interrupts. "A kiss, nothing more."

"I'm just saying, you should go for no less than equal to or greater than Thor. Otherwise, you'd be doing yourself one hell of a disservice."

Just how much greater than someone like Thor is there, she wants to ask.

"You're beginning to sound just like Hilda," she says instead.

"Who's Hilda?"

"Another scientist working here. We've been becoming friends."

"Just don't go trying to replace me up there."

Jane grins despite herself. "Darcy, that's impossible. You are irreplaceable."

"Damn right!"

They laugh together for a few seconds, until Darcy's tapers off and, after a pause, she curses.

"Oh goddammit. Sorry, Jane, I have to go. My first class starts in twenty minutes and my professor is like this ridiculous punctuality nut. Call me tomorrow, okay?"

Jane's smile fades and something catches in her throat.

"Sure, if I can."

Jane hangs up feeling only a little better, and a lot more restless.

It's going to be a_ long_ day.

* * *

_Loki Laufeyson_

Loki goes ahead with the invasion today because he wants to talk to Thor. There's a sentence he never thought he'd say, much less think. The truth of it remains. Today, he wants nothing more than to be face to face with Thor and to converse with him.

He finishes up with Stark quickly, leaving a double to take the first attack in his place. He stands beside Selvig as he works, until Thor finally arrives, shaking the foundation with his hard landing.

"Loki!"

Loki smirks and turns around.

"You know, Thor," he shouts before Thor can tell him to shut the machine down. "I don't think you realize how little impact you made last time you were on this rock. Take Jane Foster for one. When I went to her last night, she hadn't a single thought of you to spare and she was more than eager to bend to my will, if only after I bent to hers. I had no idea she was such a vixen in the bedroom, and were you aware that she screams upon her completion?"

The look on Thor's face is priceless.

And completely worth the face full of Mjonir Loki gets seconds later.

* * *

**A/N: Thus, Loki and Jane finally made each other's acquaintance.**

**Oh boy, did they ever.**

**So now that they've met, all that's left is to get them aware of each other. It won't be long now, so stay close.**


	7. Day 18

**A/N: I just want to first thank everyone who's reviewed and favorited so far. I have not gotten this much feedback on a story in a long time, and after only six chapters?**

**It's the sex scenes isn't it? That's all you care about, don't deny it!**

**Anyway, thank you all so much. You are part of what makes this story so fun for me to write. I love you! *hugs***

* * *

After finishing up her call with Darcy, Jane had packed up her stuff and left the room. She made it just in time to meet up with Dr. Ahlberg in the lab. Her on–the-fly excuse that she'd woken up with a headache and cured with Tylenol and rest went over much better than expected.

"Just get to work, Ms. Foster," Dr. Ahlberg had said before someone else pulled her away.

Jane followed the formula as best she could. Another few loops and she'd have it down pat. It doesn't even bother her to think like that anymore. There's no sense in denying that she's going to be stuck like this for a while. Trying to fix it is bound to take ages for an ordinary person like her. Much as she wishes there was at least one more person who could help her out, there is no point in dwelling. How could she even wish something like this on another person anyway?

She mostly stuck to herself during lunchtime, close enough to Hilda and Jacobine that she could listen in on their conversation and smile and laugh in all the appropriate places so they don't suspect anything is wrong.

"I'd never had a sip of alcohol before that night, it was probably the craziest thing I ever did, but I lost the bet and I'm not one to go back on my word."

"Hmmm… and all you had were a couple of beers. Pfft- that is not wild, my friend."

"Well, we can't all be as daring as you."

"Yes, and you never will be, much as I hate to break it to you."

Adorable.

4:45 came with a literal crash of Whathisname, the out of breath intern.

"You- you three- you have to come- to the TV room- you have to see this!"

Jane couldn't even be bothered to run this time.

It almost cost her her usual seat, but luckily the person who'd taken it decided to go comfort a friend of his who was near tears. He never came back again.

She watched the fight as discerningly as possible. She caught the same old glimpses of Ironman and Captain America and Thor (who sent something unpleasant dropping in her stomach). Weird monsters here, the giant green guy here and the woman on the flier there. Business as usual. Loki was the same as ever, as far as she could tell. She'd been momentarily distracted when the empty cup of water she'd taken upon entering slipped from her fingers. When she looked back up, Loki's back was to her. She didn't think much of it then. She's just going to have to be more careful tomorrow.

She's going to be a lot more serious from here on in. There's no need to laze around anymore. She's had two and a half weeks almost to come to terms with everything. She's found a reliable method to leave if she starts to feel too suffocated (reliable enough anyway), and for now, that's all she needs. She might even meet her new friend again someday.

All she can do now is plunge in headlong. Truthfully, she shouldn't have needed so much time to get this far, but she doesn't like thinking about that. It makes her feel like a slacker. She's never slacked off on anything, not since high school. This is much bigger than a single overdue term paper, but the point still stands.

Jane slinks away from the party as it's starting up. She almost isn't fast enough this time. She hears Hilda call out her name when she's at the door. Jane ignores her and runs out. Hilda shouts after her once, and then that's it. Nobody follows her back to her room. She spends an hour writing down every second of the battle she can remember, down to the last detail. It isn't much, she knows. News coverage is incredibly limited and it's not even in English. She should take some time to sit down and learn the language one of these days; whatever that means anymore. She gets to Thor's appearance, notes its brevity, and then tries to move on before she has a chance to linger. Unwittingly, she sees his stupidly charming grin as he kisses her hand and scrunches her eyes tight. She tries to drown it out with something else, anything else.

Dark hair and blue eyes and long fingers running along her body as he kisses her neck and…

No. No. Not that.

Jane gulps down what remains of her bottled water and then throws it at the garbage can next to the door. It misses by several inches.

She pulls stray bits of hair out of her face. There's nothing around to tie it back with and she doesn't feel like getting up, so she just pushes it all over her shoulders and leaves it at that. She picks up the pen and writes. She starts at a point that doesn't involve Thor in any way and spends the next few minutes recalling Ironman and the redheaded woman and the pandemonium that ensued once the power went out. She ends it at the video coming back to show the exhausted heroes, Thor included. She glosses over him and focuses on the rest. She only knows Tony Stark because he's a household name the likes of Bill Gates or Santa Claus. The green man rings a few bells too, as does Captain America, whom she's starting to remember from an old movie poster in her parents room. That was back when her father was around, so she couldn't have been more than a toddler. She's going to have to learn as much about all of them as she can. She still has no idea if their battle and her repeating days are related, but seems far too precise to just be a coincidence.

_The biggest question after 'Why is this happening?' is 'Why is this happening to me?' It is clear that none of the Avengers are aware of the repeating day, even though this repeating day spans at least the distance between Norway and America. That their battle with Loki is today must mean something. But then, why not one or all of them? Why am I the only one aware? Other than three days with Thor, I have no connection to any of them and no way to contact them. In my limited amount of time, there is little to no chance of me making it back stateside, and even if I could, how would I get to them? What could they even do?_

_For the time being, I must assume that these events are unrelated. The fact that the battle has repeated thus far without changes indicates that no one on either side is aware. Still, I can't shake the feeling that there is a connection._

She stops there and puts down the pen. She remembers that she hasn't been around to watch at least half the battles so far, but that shouldn't matter. Only in that if she had been watching it all this time, maybe she'd have memorized it by now and wouldn't have to anymore. She's really not much looking forward to having to sit through it time and time again, even though she knows she has to. This is her research now. No more star gazing or Foster Theories until this is solved. No more jumping the ferry or little Oceanside villages. No more bars and bar guys and hands and tongue and body and-

"No, no, _no_!"

Jane growls and slaps both heads over her head. She falls down in bed, just missing the wall by a hair and landing on the soft pillows. She tries not to, but she can't stop it now. She's feeling him all around her again, her body tingles with the memory. Whether she closes her eyes or keeps them open, he is always there, gazing at her with lust and desire the likes of which she's never seen before in a man.

"Come on," Jane moans, running her hands slowly down her face. "It was supposed to get rid of the stress, not make it _worse_."

She rolls over, her legs getting tangled in the sheets. She hardly moves for the rest of the night until she falls asleep. Even that's way too difficult. She feels warm all over, phantom sensations of fingers and hot breath at the nape of her neck permeate for hours.

* * *

_Day 18_

**_'Come on Eileen, oh I swear_**

**_At this moment, you mean-'_**

Jane grabs the clock radio- she needs not change positions to do it- and lobs it across the room. The cord is jerked out of the wall on one end, and partially out of the radio. It smashes against the wall, popping the screen off, but leaving it otherwise undamaged, and silent.

There's the knocking on the door now.

"Time to get up, Ms. Foster, there's work to be done. Do not make us wait for you."

Dr. Ahlberg walks off, and Jane counts down the seconds until Jacobine's arrival, announced, as always, by an enthusiastic knock.

"Come on, Jane, get moving! If you don't hurry, you'll miss breakfast. And I swear, Hilda better not have taken all the coffee again, or I'm going to take that precious headband of hers and make her eat it!"

The clock radio issues a loud whine that sounds like Kevin Rowland's voice going through a garbage disposal. It's obviously more broken than it looks and has a backup battery. Jane notes that in the back of her mind.

"What was that?" Jacobine asks. She tries the doorknob, which is jammed, and then calls out again. "You alright in there, Jane?"

"Yes, Jacobine," Jane answers as she gets out of bed. "My radio needs new batteries. I'll fix it tonight."

"If you say so."

Jane picks a periwinkle shirt today.

* * *

_Loki Laufeyson_

Loki has just finished counting the number of bricks on the wall. There are five hundred and sixty three within his line of sight. That's two minutes successfully wasted.

Not for the first time, he wishes he had a clock of some kind. He knows the time well enough from the position of the sun, but it's not specific. At least six hours have gone by since Thor dropped him in here. He's probably at some banquet welcoming him home by now. It must be a spectacular affair, even bigger than the one they held to celebrate his fall.

Rage simmers in Loki's stomach, until he relaxes against the bars and lets it go. He abandoned this realm when he fell. He had expected to die, but he had lived, and had far greater prospects elsewhere.

Had, indeed.

Loki sighs, long and loud. He really has to stop doing this to himself. One way or another, he is going to find a way out. He has to; there is not a chance in all the nine realms that this is happening for no reason. Something is causing it, or perhaps someone.

The question is how, and why.

What force or being could he have wronged so greatly that they would put him through such torment as this?

Loki laughs sardonically. He's going to be here for a while.

He hears something then, just outside his window. Voices build in volume, a laugh bursting forth. Normally, he would ignore it, but tonight it catches him by surprise. It really does. Not once in any of the last sixteen repetitions has anyone come close enough to the dungeons that he can hear them.

Loki goes to the window. He sees the grand gardens of Asgard just a small ways off, where noblemen and women in courtly attire admire the freshly grown flowers on the eve of their blooming. The Warriors Three are among them. Volstagg is happy and content with his usual supply of drumsticks. Meanwhile, Fandral woos a blushing young maiden who twirls a braid around her finger. Sif is a small ways off. She's in full battle regalia, her face pristine and her hair voluminous, and black as night. For a moment, it has an unnatural,_golden_ shine to it, or is he just seeing things? She's leaning against a tree and watching Thor as he walks along, arm and arm with-

"Jane Foster?" Loki whispers.

She's close that he can see every inch of her face, glowing in a way that should not be possible for a mortal woman. She's dressed in noble finery, from the golden jewelry to the deep blue robes that adorn her shoulders. Thor leans to whisper something in her ear. She laughs and it booms. It's so loud, it's like she's standing right behind him.

Then there's a hand on his shoulder.

There's breath in his ear.

"Having fun?"

He whirls around.

* * *

_Day 18_

Loki's eyes snap open. He does and doesn't know his surrounding at first. He's definitely back where he started, underground on Midgard on the morning of his invasion, but wasn't he just in his cell in the middle of the night?

It comes back to him slowly that he'd fallen asleep almost immediately after Thor, who had carried him this time around because his legs were so badly broken, threw him headfirst onto the stone floor of his cell. He didn't wake up again.

"Sir?

Loki turns an eye on that soldier. He's waiting for an answer to the announcement Loki missed this time while he was lost in thought. He gets up and walks away.

"Not today," he says lazily. "Put it away, we'll do it another day."

"Yes, sir."

That's the end of that.

* * *

_Jane Foster_

Her notebook remains at her side all through breakfast and the morning meeting. It stays blank for now, but by tonight, the first ten or so pages will be chaos. It had come to her this morning, after she fended off Jacobine so she could get dressed slowly and in peace. Recording the events of the battle as it was going on seemed like the best thing to do at this juncture. It would doubtless come off strange to the people around her, assuming her note-taking could hold their attention better than the destruction of an entire city. Well, too bad for them. This whole desensitization thing was really taking hold of her fast.

As always, she has nothing to say about anything, be it small talk with Hilda and Jacobine or prep work with Dr. Ahlberg. Nobody bats an eyelash at her, she's basically a non-entity. Thank goodness for that.

It's given her a lot of time to think, and her observatory time is spent sitting on the bench in the corner looking anywhere but up. She flips the blank pages of her notebook. Yesterday, she tore the top corner off the second sheet by mistake. Now it's fully intact. Seeing it sends a rush through Jane's body. Its undeniable proof that this is real and not just some crazy delusion born of being locked up with no information for too long. She fingers the page and almost rips it anew. She snaps the notebook shut, it stays off to the side, untouched until it's time for her to go. Only the first page has been marked, with a hasty, less detailed account of her day so that she can watch the clock when the time of the battle draws near. At 4:45 pm, the intern will burst in and at 6:20 pm, the world will be free to live another day. Every second of that hour and thirty five minutes in between needed to be ingrained into her skull. It's the only lead she's got, and it requires her full, undivided attention. There can be no wandering thoughts of any meaningless one night stands she may have had with random strangers in the past few 'days.' No matter how incredibly hot and amazing it may have been.

The clock currently reads ten minutes to eleven, which means she'll have to leave soon. Quiet time alone is not the reprieve it used to be, and Jane is quite suddenly looking forward to getting the same old tired dialogue. It gives her something to think about. Jane would take any sort of distraction right now, and not just from the repeating day. Whenever she's not thinking of that, her normally sensible and scientific mind is dominated by thoughts that go straight between her legs and make the rest of her feel like it's on fire. It's all nothing but that face and those eyes and hands and tongue and body again and again and-

"Five more hours until it's time, and I need to make sure to grab a fresh pen from the lab and sit closer to the door so I can leave faster when the intern shows up. Also, it might be good to move when the power goes out just before it comes back so that I have an easy exit when the party starts and nobody, Hilda or otherwise can drag me back in. The best thing I can do in the meantime is just go about the day as normal and not speak much unless spoken to. I already know all the experiments I'm assigned to front and back so that shouldn't be a problem…"

Jane goes on like this until the security guard taps on the door and tells her in heavily accented English that her time is up and she needs to clear out. She's mostly come down at this point, though she suspects her cheeks might still be a little flushed or she's got sweat on her brow, because the security guard gives her an unusually long look as she's leaving. Her troubles are quelled for the moment, and she's proceeding straight ahead with her head held high and an impenetrable shield around her that keeps out the unessential.

Five more hours until it all starts again.

* * *

_Loki Laufeyson_

Afternoon sees Loki back in Central Park. He's just been walking along, first invisible, then not. Somewhere around noon, his stomach lets out a whine, reminding him that he hasn't eaten anything since the day before the repetition began. It's not the first time he's gone so long without sustenance. He suspects that, as with physical injuries, it doesn't matter what he ingests, his body will return to its previous state as each new repeat begins. He could spend what amounted to years in this endless circle and never let a single morsel pass his lips.

He goes in search of food anyway. There are several fine looking establishments nearby, but he's questioned the quality of Midgardian food since it became clear that, at least in this city, their diets consisted mainly of twisted dough covered in salt. Why else would there be ten different peddlers offering them everywhere he looked? The only thing he sees almost as often are eateries that boast enormous yellow signs shaped like an M. He doesn't know what it stands for, but something about it makes his chest feel vaguely like its burning. Any place that elicits that can't be worth it at all.

He eventually gives up and takes to wandering the park again. It's irritating a place as ever, especially when he makes the mistake of passing a certain bench beneath a tall green lamp at the exact wrong time.

"Daddy! Daddy! Where are you?"

The pigtailed little girl veers around the legs of uncaring adults, screaming her weak little heart out. Loki eyes the bench he'd sat on the first time, this time completely empty; no one at all for her to bother. What would the child do now?

"Daddy!"

She barrels straight at him, almost running into his legs until Loki side-steps her. She skids to a halt and turns.

"Mister, wait! Have you seen my Daddy?"

Loki rolls his eyes and keeps walking. The girl calls after him but doesn't follow, and soon her cries fade away.

He exits the park and cloaks himself again, so that it doesn't create a scene when he transports himself elsewhere. After jumping from place to place, Loki finally settles on a beach he knows to be somewhere outside the city of Manhattan. It's still close, but far enough that he no longer feels the need to kill something.

There are only five or six people on the sand and no one in the water. Loki is wearing more than all of them combined. He'd stuck out like a sore thumb if he was visible. Several feet away is a couple locked in a passionate embrace, so focused on each other that he could probably appear to them in full regalia and they wouldn't notice. Loki scoffs and bypasses them; he's not too fond of how they remind him of events just two repeats ago.

The truth is, he's been thinking of Jane Foster off and on since he woke up this morning. Her presence in that dream really threw him for a loop. The dream itself was of no concern to him. He rarely had them, but when he did, they were often as vivid and detailed as this one had been. It was simply how his mind worked, and nothing and no one could possibly know that more than himself.

_Having fun?_ Oh, what amusing little quips his subconscious mind came up with. Why yes, thank you, this repetition has by far been the time of his life!

So what, then, of Jane Foster? His first thought is that their night together triggered it, but that's just absurd. He has spent nights with countless women in his long lifetime, enough that it made Stark's little line of conquests look positively meager. True, Jane Foster was more than just a common wench; she was the woman who had helped ruin everything for him by making Thor a 'better' man. He cared more for the dirt under his shoes than her. Under any other circumstances, she would have been dead on the floor before she could even open her mouth to ask his name. What in Vahalla's name had she been doing in his dreams?

Nothing about their meeting had made sense anyway. How had she known who he was, and so quickly? Thor may have told her about him, but to know him by face when they'd never before been face to face? There is no way she could've gotten that accurate a description.

Question after question hounds him from there. Why had she been so eager to lay with him? Why hadn't she been even the least bit afraid when she outright told him she knew who he was? What on earth had gone on between her and Thor to make the year of absence so unbearable that she would stoop to something as petty as this? Why, when she was supposed to be one of Midgard's most brilliant minds, would she act in such a reckless way, knowing all that he could have done to her?

Most importantly, why did Loki care so must about all this that he would see her in his dreams?

He looks around one more time. The amorous couple from before appear to have moved to a changing tent, which rocks suggestively side to side. Without really thinking about it, Loki vanishes, leaving not even footprints in his wake.

He ends up in that same little Norwegian park. He glances around with disinterest and leaves. The next place he finds himself at is in front of Jane Foster's pub. She won't be there yet, but if he remembers the time of their meeting correctly, she'll be along shortly. He walks inside, still invisible, moving past chattering, inebriated sailors who couldn't possibly see a foot in front of their faces. Loki stops at the end of the bar, at the seat Jane Foster had occupied and would soon again. How fun it would be to wait until she was right there and then let her see him. Poor thing would probably have a heart attack. It barely brings a smile to his face, but at least it keeps him distracted from wondering what he's even doing here. If only he had something better to do.

Loki sits at the second to last seat and waits.

* * *

_Jane Foster_

The time is now 4:40 pm. Jane has abandoned her usual spot in the back for a table closer to the door. One step and she'll be out; she might as well not even wait for the intern today. The trade-off for her planning is that now she's smack in the middle of Hilda and Jacobine. She hates to say they're started to really grate on her nerves. It's not their fault that they've had this asinine little discussion seventeen times in a row. They don't know any better.

"I'd never had a sip of alcohol before that night, it was probably the craziest thing I ever did, but I lost the bet and I'm not one to go back on my word."

"Hmmm… and all you had were a couple of beers. Pfft- that is not wild, my friend."

"Well, we can't all be as daring as you," Jane supplies under her breath.

"You say something, Jane?"

She jumps a little, cursing herself.

"Ah- no," she says quickly. "Just talking to myself."

This has the opposite effect she was hoping for, and in retrospect, she probably should have thought of something better. Jacobine gives her a searching stare while Hilda shakes her head disapprovingly.

"Talking to yourself is a sign of insanity Jane," she says, wrapping an unwanted arm around her. "I knew we shouldn't have left you out."

"Oh, but I'm fine, I-"

"No buts," Hilda says. She waves her index finger in Jane's face. "Now then, how about you tell us a crazy story of your own, Jane?"

Jane would love to dissuade her, whatever it took, but now Jacobine is leaning closer, looking like a little kid at a puppet show. They are on the edge of their seats, and knowing they're only doing it for her benefit changes nothing.

"Well?" Jacobine says.

"Weeeell?" Hilda prompts in her ear.

Jane sneaks a glance at the digital clock on the wall. It's 4:42.

Screw it.

"I've got a really good story," she says in monotone. "First of all, that thing you guys were talking about earlier? About Jacobine? You've actually had that conversation seventeen times. The truth is, we're all stuck in a big time loop where I'm reliving the same day over and over again and no one else know about it, including you two. In fact, I've snuck off the island several times on the supply ferry and one time, I even slept with some guy I met at a bar, just for the hell of it."

She finishes as flatly as she started, then leans back and listens to the ticking of Jacobine's wristwatch. The two of them are dumbstruck. Ever so slowly, their eyes turn to each other… and then they laugh. They laugh far too loud when in such close proximity with Jane, and now her ears are ringing.

"Oh- Oh that is a good one, Jane," Hilda says.

"I'll say," Jacobine is a little less composed, but still understandable. "Did you just come up with that?"

Jane growls under her breath. "No, I've had _plenty_ of time."

They laugh again and Hilda gives her a one armed hug. Jane thinks she might also get a sloppy kiss on the cheek, and she's glad when it doesn't happen and Hilda pulls away. Getting all that lipstick off would have been a pain. Hilda and Jacobine never quite relax again, getting as far as light snickers that linger even as Hilda is pausing to take a well-needed gulp of bottled water and then juts out her chin.

"It's funny you should mention the ferry. I've been thinking about jumping that thing on the really hectic days since I got here. I guess great minds really do think alike, huh?"

"More like reckless," Jacobine says. Her grin hinders any possible attempt at chastising anyone. "That's an awful idea to promote."

Hilda rolls her eyes. "It's all in good fun, Jacobine, just a joke. Right, Jane?"

"Wrong."

That doesn't process right away. Hilda is sending a smug look Jacobine's way when it hits, and then Jane is the center of attention again. Though her inner voice is screaming at her how incredibly stupid this is, not to mention dangerous, Jane can't bring herself to care. All of a sudden, she's completely numb to everything, an outsider looking in. It doesn't matter what she says to them, she could tell them her whole life's story if she wanted to. Then, she could tell it to them all over again tomorrow and no one would know the difference. It's like being on a whole other plane of existence, all by herself.

"Wrong," she says again, getting up. She feels how wide her eyes are. From the way Jacobine raises her arms to her chest, almost defensively, she must look pretty scary right now. Something about that invigorates her. "Everything I just said is true. You'll see what I mean about thirty seconds from now. An intern is going to rush in here and tell us to follow him to the TV room, where we're going to watch news coverage of an alien attack on New York City led by the Norse God, Loki."

Dead silence follows; it's so thick that it even penetrates Jane's newfound unflappability, if only just. She is not unable to maintain eye contact, even if her friends are most unwilling to look at her for longer than a couple of seconds. They seem to be conversing with their eyes, trying to quietly figure out if Jane's crazy enough to attack them if they try to run. At least, that's what she assumes.

"Uh… Jane, are you sure you're feeling alright?" Hilda finally asks.

In response, Jane looks down at her wrist, which is devoid of a watch, but she knows the time anyway.

"Ten more seconds," she says.

"Okay Jane, knock it off," Jacobine says. "You're starting to scare me."

Jane snorts openly. _'Jacobine, you only think you're scared right now. Just you wait.'_

Five more seconds. Jane's body seizes up with anticipation. How will Hilda and Jacobine take knowing that she's been telling the truth all along? She's about to find out, and there's something exciting to it. The intern will burst through the door and set everything into motion again in three… two… one…

Jane looks at the door.

The air goes quiet.

There is no one there.

Jane blinks once or twice, biting her lip awkwardly. She already knows that what she's seeing is for real, but she's as of yet not too worried. Something shifts behind her and Jane waves dismissively behind her. Jacobine gasps softly. Jane pays it no mind.

"It's not really on the dot," she explains. "Just wait a couple of seconds, he'll be here."

"_Who_ will be here, Jane?" Hilda sounds annoyingly wary.

"The intern. I already told you two this," Jane's having a hard time keeping her voice down. This waiting and counting down is starting to get to her. It gets any worse and she may have to take tomorrow off. "Just give it another couple of seconds."

Jane stands before the door looking out. The half window shows an empty hallway, save for a few scientists walking in different directions and discussing trivialities amongst themselves. She thinks about opening the door a crack so she can hear him running before he appears which will be any second now.

Another couple of doctors walk by. Jane thinks she sees Dr. Ahlberg among them. Any second now…

"Jane."

Any second now…

"Jane."

Any second…

"Jane!"

Any-

"JANE!"

Hilda snatches her up. Jane is unprepared and almost smacks her friend across the face. She's about to give Hilda a piece of her mind when the taller woman points at the clock. Jane looks at it and feels like she's been dowsed in ice water.

It's 4:46.

Then the clock advances one more minute, as if to taunt her.

4:47 now.

Its 4:47, and nothing has happened.

"What?" Jane says. She shakes her head slowly and walks to it, zombie-like. "That can't be right. That clock must be fast. It's-"

She grabs her phone out of her pocket and flips it open. 4:47.

There is a simple red wristwatch on Jacobine's arm. Jane ignores her protests pulls it before her eyes. 4:47

Jacobine jerks her arm away and holds it close to herself.

"Okay, really funny joke, Jane, but I think it's time we let it go now," Hilda says, but it falls on deaf ears.

There is a terrible roaring in Jane's eardrums that makes her feel like her head is about to explode. She grips it tight, massages her temples to try and relax herself. When it's dulled enough, she whirls around. Hilda's been calling her name from somewhere far off. She shuts right up and shrinks back a little when Jane rounds on her.

"What day is it?" Jane demands.

Hilda looks to Jacobine for help, but she's just as lost.

"Uh… it's May 4th. Jane, do you need a doctor or something? Because we do have those here and… Jane? Jane, wait!"

She's halfway to the door by now. She's dazed but not incoherent and knows where she is going. Nothing can stop her now. There are images passing by her eyes that are far more to her now than anything in the real world, which is hardly even real to her anymore. The last thing she sees before she leaves is the clock that reads 4:48.

She takes the familiar path to the TV room. Staff members and custodians aplenty pause in their day to day lives to watch her go, unperturbed and in no way fearful for the future of the world. Some of them point at her and whisper as she passes. One person spins his finger around his head and then laughs with his friend.

Jane bursts into the room, which is completely empty barring the person who had been about to leave when she ran in. They stop to give her an odd look before departing, and now she's alone. She stands on her spot instead of sits. The remote is trapped in her pure white, cold fingers as she flips through channel after channel, looking for that ever important and world changing broadcast.

General news.

General news.

Soap opera.

Infomercial.

TV Drama.

Sports.

Sports.

General news.

Cartoons.

Nothing.

There are only ten channels to speak of. All of them show regular programming for a regular Friday afternoon. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Business as usual.

Jane's arm falls limp at her side. She's staring at the final channel, which is nothing but static and white noise that sounds like a drill going through her brain.

The time on the clock is 4:51.

"No way. _No way…_"

* * *

_Loki Laufeyson_

He's getting impatient.

The crowds have barely thinned in the hours he's been waiting. Whenever someone leaves, a whole group arrives to take his place. They are loud and boisterous and fueling Loki's already very low opinion of Midgardians. Someone in the corner pours a mug of foul smelling whiskey over his friends head. The man laughs like an idiot and falls over to the floor. The bartender barely acknowledges them. How many times has he seen this before, Loki wonders.

There is an old analog clock high on the wall above. It's made of chipped, splintered wood and reads 4:46 in the afternoon. It would be late morning in New York, right in the middle of his invasion. They would be converging within the hour to futilely search for him. Loki leans forward on the rickety bar stool, which stays up only because he's being careful. This place is absolutely horrendous. Once he's done with this, he's never coming back here again, dreams be damned. Now, if only Jane Foster would be kind enough to make her appearance so he can get this over with. He's still not sure what he's going to do when she gets here. He'll figure it out when the time comes.

He looks at the clock again, the pads of his fingers lightly drumming the splintered wood bar. It's getting closer to five now and she's still not here. It's come to him that he never checked the time during their last encounter. It was definitely during the afternoon while the sun was starting to set. He remembers the way it stretched out and reached her light brown hair, making all the little untamed bits shine and stick out all the more. She had been quite unkempt, in fact. There was an odd look in her eyes like she was secretly exhausted. He doubted she really was, though. She couldn't possibly have done all the things she'd done with him if she was even the least bit tired.

Loki momentarily gets lost in memory, stopping himself before his body can give away what he's thinking. The bartender, the one Loki very distinctly recalls being the one Jane had been venting to, is now greeting another, much younger man dressed in a similar uniform. They speak in rapid Norwegian that Loki can't quite make out. His grasp on the language isn't bad, it's good enough that he can catch a few key phrases like 'take over' and 'see you tomorrow.' Then the bartender grabs his coat and hat and heads out the door. As the new bartender gets ready to take his first order of the night, Loki jumps off of his seat. He follows the bartender out the door, misjudging his own strength and just about taking it off its hinges. He removes the invisibility.

"You there!"

His commanding shout gets the bartender's attention, even though there are about ten other people walking around that he could be talking to.

"Need something?" the man asks in his native language.

Loki points at the bar. "You work there, don't you?"

The bartender raises an eyebrow. "Yes, but my shift is over. You want a drink, go talk to Peter inside."

He turns and leaves without another word. Loki has no need to stop him again. Walking backwards, he finds himself on a bench just over the boardwalk. When no one is looking, he shields himself again and sends out four or five doubles all over the town. Their search for Jane Foster starts to take too long, and his newfound anxiety can't take it. He sends out a few more, and then even more after that. The strain of the magic it takes to hold them all makes him woozy, but he refuses to call them back until every inch of every square mile of this and the surrounding villages have been thoroughly searched. This takes over an hour, and the conclusion is as simple as it is extraordinary.

Jane Foster is nowhere to be found.

And that is just not possible.

Loki gets up and begins to pace around the bench, going in an endless circle. If he allowed himself to leave footprints, they'd leave permanent indentations. He has no trouble keeping his mind clear, but these are not the most welcome thoughts he could have. Jane Foster is not around, but she was very clearly here two repeats ago. She had been sitting at the bar, talking at length to the very bartender who had just left without a word to anyone. He could have been late and just missed her, but that didn't explain how she could get so many miles away that none of his doubles could find her. There was no chance of him having mistaken someone else for her, she knew far too much. It was definitely her and she had definitely been here and she was definitely not here now.

Loki walks a little faster, unaware that he's lost his concentration on the spell that keeps him unseen, and now everyone is staring at the bizarre man in black who looks like he's contemplating attacking a bench.

_'How could it be possible that she's not here?'_ Loki thinks. _'I've lived this unchanging day so many times, and it's true I only went to Jane Foster once before butshe would have to be as set in her ways as everyone else. Every day she should have come here, gone home with another man perhaps, so how is it that today, she's not even in this town? How could such an anomaly occur without my intervention?'_

That's where Loki stops, because the thought that's just entered his head has the power of a brick wall.

What if this isn't an anomaly?

What if what he's seen today is, in fact, the way things are supposed to go?

What if Jane Foster being here on that day was the true anomaly?

So far, the only changes to the timeline Loki has seen are the ones he created himself, because he knows everything that was going to happen. This was the first change he had in no way influenced. This was all Jane Foster's doing.

And that means...

A sweet little old lady walking home from the store with some groceries and a new toy for her Grandson screams and faints as the tall and harrowed young man she was about to greet as she passed disappears in an explosion of light and color.

* * *

_It just doesn't make any sense. The invasion and attack on New York has happened every day for seventeen days without fail. I have already established that I am the only one with any awareness, and any changes that have been made have been the result of my own actions. Even on my most active days, there is no chance I could have done anything that would stop the attack. I have considered that someone not directly associated with me could also be aware, but for something like this to happen, they would also have to directly relate to the attack on either side. If it is one of the Avengers or someone associated with them, then that might explain what happened today. They spent enough days getting a feel for how Loki plans his attack and then stopped it before it could begin. That only begs the question of why. It may be that stopping the attack was the key all along, but then what does my involvement signiffy? Unless I'm really not supposed to be involved. Maybe whatever caused this repeating day had aftereffects that brought random people into its scope by chance. That could mean I'm not the only one aware, and there could be any number of people across the globe going through the same thing I am. It's an oddly comforting thought, but more I think about it, the more implausible it becomes._

_That just leaves all the same questions unanwered. Why is it that today something so different suddenly happens? It can only mean that at lst one other person knows what is going on like I do, someone who has enough influence over the attack to stop it completely._

Jane stops there. Her handwriting has become far too sloppy, her words taking up three lines at a time. There are also some really embarrassing spelling and grammar errors. Jane pulls up a chair to sit down somewhere. She winds up in front of her small vanity, facing the mirror. She looks awful.

"There has got to be a logical explanation for this," she says, knowing very well that there isn't. "There has to be something I've missed that explains everything. It can't be that someone else is involved that I don't even know. My God, I let a Norse God sleep in my place for three days and now this? I have nothing to do with any of this. Why…?"

She puts her hands in her hair, running fingers through tangled locks. She catches onto a couple of knots, gently pulling until her scalp starts to hurt. She can't stop the new theories that come to her, each more absurd than the last. The curse of being a scientist: never a quiet moment.

She sits there in that same, despondent way until something else comes to her, something terrible.

The only way for a battle to happen is for one side to attack, and the other side to retaliate. That means that the only way to end a battle without any bloodshed is for that first side to not attack. For _Loki_ not to attack…

And how many other days had she sat out watching it anyway? How many other days went exactly like this? There had been the fifth cycle, followed by the sixth, all the way up until the tenth. Any one of those days, could have ended uneventfully. Then there had been the days she spent plotting her escapes, and the day at the bar when she'd spent the night with that man.

That tall, dark haired man with the strange and unsettling eyes who'd been only too happy to play along with her game.

Jane's heart stops.

_'Hello Sir, you wouldn't happen to be Thor's brother, Loki, would you?_

_-dark hair, blue eyes, so tall-_

"Oh…"

_'And what if I am?'_

_-hands tongue body-_

_'So, you are?'_

_-hands tongue body Loki Loki Loki Loki-_

"Oh My God."

She looks up and there he is, his reflection in the mirror, staring down at her half crazed.

Unforgiving hands wrap around her and wrench her up. There is growling like an angry animal in her ears as she's thrown against the wall and held several inches off the ground so they're level. He's even scarier up close. He leans in, so that he has to press his forehead against her so their lips don't touch.

_"Do you know?"_

Jane's mouth has fallen open, but she's still reeling off the pain in her head and arms. Her heart has gotten working again far too well. It's close to bursting out of her chest. When she takes too long, Loki grits his teeth and shoves her back again. She just barely avoids hitting her head and getting a nasty bump.

"Come on," he snarls. "Talk. _Answer me, damn you."_

He shakes her a few times, as if that's going to make it easier for her to formulate a response. She's as tongue-tied as ever, and it doesn't help that those eyes of his are are turning from icy blue to an even more unnatural blood red. In their place, his skin starts to take on a much darker shade, and if she's not mistaken, the temperature has dropped significantly. Incoherent fear runs through her body, but it can't silence her.

"You didn't attack today."

Loki stares at her a moment longer and then let's go. Jane falls ungracefully on her ass, but it's better than the alternative. Loki's appearance mercifully goes back to normal as he walks away from her. His posture is strong and dignified, but the harrowed way he rubs at his arm ruins it, and lessens her fears a bit.

"Alright," he says. "So you know."

What he does next would have put Jane more at ease if it had been absolutely anyone else ever. Instead, Loki's subsequent laughter makes her wish there was some kind of emergency exit she could sneak out of. He's blocking the only door.

"You know," he repeats and turns around. He's grinning and it looks wrong. "_You_ know."

He points at Jane, and a stab of indignation that cares little about the danger at hand goes through her.

"Do you have a problem with me?" she asks, but it doesn't sound like her voice anymore.

Loki's grin fades. Jane immediately regrets what she just said, and since she can't exactly apologize, she just steps a little further away from him, up against the wall.

"I'm just surprised," Loki says, examining her from across the room. "That out of all those involved with myself or my brother, who might have had some sort of use in this repetition, _you_ are the one who is granted awareness. You and no one else."

He closes in on her, and Jane has nowhere to run. He comes near enough without invading her space like the first time. Jane can still see every little spot on his face, every droplet of sweat. Her heart is pounding.

"What good could you possibly be?"

Jane gawks at him, and barks a laugh of her own that she almost thinks makes him flinch. "Are you serious? You're really trying to imply that I'm only in this because of you."

He waves her answer off like it's nothing to him. "What other reason could there be, Jane Foster?"

"Oh, you've got to be kidding," she says, jabbing a finger into his armored chest. It hurts, but she bites it back. No way is he getting the satisfaction of knowing that. "So, what? This is about you and I get to come along for the ride because we're just such _good friends_, and you just can't live without me in your personal little corner of hell?"

"Be silent," he snaps. "Here I thought you were intelligent. Surely, you never believed that this was about you."

Jane falters. Her notebook filled with her jumbled up mess of notes is next to the bed behind him. She can read the large print from here. Clenching a fist, she returns his hard stare.

"Who says it's about either one of us," she shoots back with an ironic smile. "Maybe we're both just lucky."

Loki gives a little, displeased groan and walks around her.

"The things you'll come up with to ease your suffering. I should have expected this from a mortal."

Jane's blood boils.

"And what have you been doing, you're so much better than the 'mortals.' Why aren't you stopping this?"

"Be silent," Loki seethes, looking like he's just sucked on a practically sour lemon. It does wonders for Jane's mood.

"Oh, you can't, can you?" she says with great relish. He glares heatedly and Jane answers it with a coy smile. "Well, look at the big powerful God now. Can't even fix a little lapse in time."

If looks could kill, Jane wouldn't even be six feet under, she'd just be a pile of ash. It doesn't have nearly the effect it might have five minutes ago. Jane is done being afraid for now. It's been coming to this for a long time, ever since she first woke up and realized tomorrow hadn't come. All the fear and confusion and boredom and rage had welled up inside of her, leaking out here and there, but never spilling until now. Now she finally had someone to aim it at, and he's a more than deserving target.

Deserving, but not easy.

"Look at the impressive scientist," Loki mimics her tone perfectly. "Acts bigger than she is when in reality, she's happy to be bedded by the very one she ridicules."

"That has no bearing on this, and you know it," Jane says. Even as she does, she feels her face grow hot. Is she blushing? She leans over slightly to look at her reflection. Dammit, she's blushing. "I didn't even know it was you."

"Never lie to me, Jane Foster," he says firmly. "You called me by my name; you knew _exactly_ who I was."

"I thought you were lying!" she cries. "I thought you were just some guy trying to get laid. I would never have done it if I knew it was you."

"You say that, and yet in the same breath you admit that your wish was to have me in your bed. You cannot have it both ways Jane Foster."

"If it were up to me, I wouldn't have it _either way_."

"What's done is done."

"Enough with this! Stop changing the subject."

"Then don't deny what you desired that night."

"That night is _not important_ and even if it was, I _don't_ want you."

"What did I say about lying to me?"

"I don't know, why don't you turn back the clock so we can do it over again? Oh wait, you can't."

"Woman, if you know what is good for you, you will _not_ start that again."

"Oh, shut up, you hypocrite. What? Can't handle your poor, bruised ego?"

"I will not warn you again. Shut your mouth or feel my wrath, you little impudent little twit."

"Let me guess, you only care so much about what we did because some stupid bar sex is the only way you can feel big anymore. You can't do anything to stop this at all, can you? Face it you're as powerless as I am."

"SILENCE!"

"YOU FIRST!"

He smashes a fist through her vanity, which gives completely and sends her make-up and brushes rolling on the floor. It's only an inch or so to the left of her, and he's right in her face. For the third time now, they are close enough to feel each other's breath, but this isn't like all the other times. Jane is shaking and her clothes feel far too tight, and he looks no better. Jane will never be able to say for sure who makes the first move. She jumps right as he grabs her, and their lips are crushed together in a sloppy mess of a dance as their rage and lust filled moans mingle together. Their hands go for each other's hair. Loki doesn't care to not make it painful when he pulls out all of those knots, but the stinging feels so good right now.

He gets them over to the bed without looking, and Jane pushes him down on it. He waves his hand in the air around them. Jane doesn't know why at first, and then their clothes melt away, and she decides that she _really_ likes magic a lot.

Hours go by and nighttime falls. The window is shut but Jane's seen plenty of stars. Unlike the first time, they don't hold each other in the afterglow. They keep as far from each other as humanly possible, which isn't much since Jane's bed is only built for one and their legs are still touching. Jane catches her breath and ignores the jolts of pain already going down her legs as she turns and looks Loki in the eye.

"Okay, we need to talk."


End file.
